LETTERS   FROM    SPAIN 

AND      OTIIEE       COUNT  EIES 


LETTERS  OF  A  TRAVELLER. 


SECOND    SERIES. 


BY 


WILLIAM  CULLEN   BRYANT. 


NEW  YORK  : 
D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY, 

846    &    848    BROADWAY. 
1859. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1859,  by 

WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 
District  of  New  York. 


TO    THE    READER. 


These  Letters,  sent  home  to  the  United  States 
during  recent  journeys  in  several  countries  of  the 
European  continent,  are  laid  before  the  public  just  as 
they  were  written  on  the  spot,  without  additions,  and 
with  no  material  corrections.  Of  their  imperfections 
none  can  be  more  sensible  than  the  author  ;  their 
merit,  if  they  have  any,  consists  in  their  being  a 
record  of  observations  committed  to  paper  while  the 
impression  they  made  was  yet  clear  and  distinct. 


CONTENTS. 


Page 
Letter  I.— A  Floral  Exhibition  at  Paris.— Beautiful  Arrangements.— A  Foun- 
tain and  Brook. — Tropical  Plants. — Black  Swans. — New  Eoses. — M.  Yatte- 
mare. — Persian  Visitors. — Delaroche's  Paintings. — His  Queen  Elizabeth. — 
His  three  Portraits  of  Napoleon 11 

Letter  II.— The  Pauper  Colonies  of  Holland.— Their  Origin.— The  Dwellings 
of  the  Paupers.— Their  Neatness.— Begging  Propensity  of  the  Inmates. — 
Their  Manufactory. — Their  Schools. — Mode  of  Compensation  for  their  La- 
bor.—Numbers  of  the  Colonists 17 

Letter  III. — The  Swiss  Industrial  Exhibition. — Ingenuity  of  the  Swiss. — 
Their  success  in  Manufactures.— Freedom  of  Trade.— Natural  Advantages 
for  Manufactures. — Iron  Articles. — Swiss  Watches,  Porcelain,  Glass,  Silks, 
Woollens,  Embroidery.— Carvings  in  Wood.— Skins  of  Birds. — New  Palace 
of  the  Confeddration.— Swiss  Paintings 22 

Letter  IV. — Bagn^res  de  Luchon. — Geneva. — ^Lyons. — Nimes. — Melons  at 
Nimes. — ^New  Buildings. — Toulouse. — Beauty  of  Luchon. — Guides. — The 
Village. — The  Baths. — The  Cours  d'Etigny. — Sights  in  the  Streets. — English 
at  the  Lac  d'  Oo.— The  Pic  de  FAnticade. — The  Maladetta. — A  Legend ....    BO 

Letter  V. — Bagnores  de  Bigorre. — Horace  Vernet's  Elijah. — Catholic  and 
Protestant  Worship. — Pau. — Its  Summer  Dulness. — Journey  to  Bayonne. — 
Fresh  Appearance  of  the  Environs. — Hotel  du  Commerce. — People  of  the 
Town.— Journey  to  San  Sebastian. — The  Scenery. — The  Basque  Eace  seen 
on  a  Holiday. — The  Bidassoa. — Behobie. — Entrance  into  Spain. — Irun. — The 
People. — Port  of  Passages. — ^A  Gascon  Coachman. — Arrival  at  San  Sebastian.    41 

Letter  VI.— San  Sebastian.— The  Pyrenees  and  the  Atlantic— Noises  of  San 
Sebastian.— Compactness  of  the  Town. — Church  of  Santa  Maria. — Sunday 
Gayeties. — Quiet  of  the  Night. — The  Alameda. — Basque  Children. — No 
Thieves.— Absence  of  Beggars, — The  House  of  Mercy. — The  Climate.^Oc- 
cupations  of  the  Paupers. — ^The  School. — The  Hospital.— Sufferings  from 
Thirst.— Valley  of  Loyola.T— Basque  Women.— Vineyards  Abandoned 52 

Letter  VII.— Hall  of  Maternity.— Graves  of  British  Officers.— Hats  of  the 
Priests. — Departure    from    Squ    Sebastian.— ('aution  to  Travellers. — The 


8  CONTENTS. 

Pag« 

Oria.— Treatment  of  Trees.— A  Basque  Peasant.— The  Chestnut  Crop. — 
Woollen  Mills. — A  Showy  Country  House. — A  Manufacturing  Village. — 
Tolosa. — Night  Travelling. — A  Member  of  the  Civil  Guard. — Yergara. — 
Neatness  of  the  Hotel. — The  Deva. — A  Basque  Girl. — The  Cantabrian 
Mountains. — Salinas. — The  Eoads. — Beggars. — Arrival  at  Vitoria 65 

Letter  VIII. — Spanish  Politeness. — Public  Grounds  at  Vitoria.— The  Alame- 
da.— Thriving  Appearance  of  the  Town. — Sights  in  the  Streets. — The  Ca- 
thedral.— Ribera's  Dead  Christ. — Country  about  Vitoria. — The  Arquillos. — 
Winter  at  Vitoria. — Pigs  and  Women. — A  Fair. — The  People. — Their  Ani- 
mals.— The  Pig  Market. — Public  Schools. — Departure  from  Vitoria. — A 
Castilian  Coachman. — Miranda  de  Ebro. — Swarms  of  Beggars. — Entrance 
into  Castile.— Custom-House. — A  Castilian  Traveller.— The  Pass  of  Pan- 
corvo. — Briviesca.— Dreary  Region. — Arrival  at  Burgos 73 

Letter  IX.— Aspect  of  Burgos.— Spanish  Courtesy.— The  Alameda.— The  Ca- 
thedral.—Beauty  of  its  Architecture.— Its  Oriental  Character.— Side  Chap- 
els.—Tomb  of  the  Gondestable.— Chapel  of  Santa  Tecla.— A  Spanish  Ordi- 
nary.— A  Public  Walk.— Students  Designed  for  the  Church. — A  Spanish 
Beauty.— A  Drive  into  the  Country.— Convent  of  Las  Huelgas. — A  Lady 
Abbess. — Chant  of  the  Nuns. — Chant  of  Priests 91 

Letter  X. — The  Cartuja. — Monuments  of  Isabella  the  Catholic  and  her  Broth- 
er.— Cells  of  the  Monks. — The  Burial-Ground. — Poverty  of  the  Secularized 
Monks. — A  Bull  Fight. — The  Amphitheatre.— Procession  of  the  Combat- 
ants.— A  Tame  Bull.— Dogs  brought  to  Attack  Him. — He  is  Killed.— A 
Savage  Bull. — The  Banderilleros.— Horses  Killed.— Another  Bull  Despatch- 
ed.— Men  Tossed  in  the  Air,— Commercial  Panic  of  1858 102 

Letter  XI. — Courts  of  Justice  in  Burgos.- Handmaidens  at  the  Inn. — De- 
parture from  Burgos. — A  Night  Journey.— Singing  of  the  Coachmen. — Ler- 
ma. — Quintanilla.— A  Spanish  Breakfast. — People  on  the  Road. — Vineyards. 
— The  Vintage. — Grape  Gatherers. — Aranda. — A  Dirty  Town  and  Inn. — 
Fleas.— Boceguillas. — A  Grove  of  Evergreen  Oaks. — Jenny's  Tavern.- A 
Genteel  Family  in  a  Cart.— Somosierra. — Buitrago. — A  Spanish  Venta. — 
The  Lozoya. — Beautiful  Scene. — What  Becomes  of  the  Donkeys.— Strange 
Rocks. — Cabanillas  and  its  Inn. — A  Hired  Mule. — Alcobendas.— Mambrino's 
Helmet— First  Sight  of  Madrid.— Hotels 109 

Letter  XII. — Madrid. — Imitation  of  the  French. — The  Prado. — Costumes  of 
the  Ladies. — Nature  of  Spanish  Hospitality.— Social  Customs.— Late  Hours. 
-The  Amphitheatre  for  Bull  Fights.— The  Theatres.— The  Puerta  del  Sol. 
— Idlers. — Gossip. — A  Revival  of  Religion. — Galiano. — The  Royal  Museum. 
— Richness  of  the  Collection. — Raphael's  Pasrao  de  Sicilia. — Modern  Span- 
ish Paintings 124 

Letter  XIII. — Engraving  in  Spain. — Martinez.— Private  Galleries. — Medraza's 
Collection.— Making  of  a  Doctor  of  Laws. — Address  of  Emilio  Castelar. — 
The  Degree  Conferred.— Feast  of  All  Saints.— Burial  Places.— Ceremonies 


CONTENTS.  9 

Page 
of  Commemoration. — Reservoir  and  Aqueduct. — Newspapers  of  Madrid. — 
Liberty  of  the  Press. — The  Spanish  Ministry.— A  Eailway. — Eailway  Pro- 
jects.— The  Future  of  Spain.— Eccent  Political  Changes  and  their  Effect. — 
Kindness  of  the  Madrileflos. — The  American  Minister 137 

Letter  XIV. — Departure  from  Madrid. — A  Hermitage. — The  Tagus. — Aran- 
juez. — Villasequilla. — La  Mancha.— Dreary  Absence  of  Trees  in  Spain. — 
Aspect  of  the  Country. — Albacete. — Spanish  Daggers. — Almausa. — A  Car- 
rito. — Unpleasant  Conveyance. — A  Murcian  Driver. — Yillena. — A  Murciau 
Inn.— Garlic— Scarcity  of  Water 152 

Lbtter  XY. — Departure  from  Villena. — Narrow  and  Muddy  Streets. — Sax. — 
Picturesque  Country. — Elda. — An  Accident. — Foul  Eoads. — Four  Corners' 
Tavern. — Good  Fortune. — A  Eailway. — Civility  of  the  Superintendents. — 
Arrival  at  Alicante. — The  American  Consul,  Mr.  Leach.— Quijano.— His 
Humane  Labors,  Death,  Funeral,  and  Monument 164 

Lettee  XVI. — Departure  from  Alicante. — A  Spanish  Galera. — Cigarritos. — 
Matches.— Elche  and  its  Palms. — The  People  of  Elche. — Morning  Cup  of 
Chocolate. — Spanish  Sobriety.  —  Curiosity  of  the  Inhabitants.— Orange 
Groves. — Orihuela.— Dialogue  with  a  Landlady. — Language  of  the  South 
of  Spain.— Olive  Groves. — Olive  Gatherers 1T3 

Letter  XVII. — Arrival  at  Murcia. — Mosquitoes. — The  Cathedral.— Starers.— 
Variety  of  Costumes. — Departure  from  Murcia. — Cheerful  Fellow-passen- 
gers.— Aspect  of  the  Country. — Cartagena. — Hotel  of  Four  Nations. — Pic- 
turesque Site  of  the  Town. — The  Harbor. — Arrival  of  a  Steamer. — Depart- 
ure from  Cartagena. — Alraeria. — Its  Port  and  Eocky  Shores. — A  Eough 
Night.— Arrival  at  Malaga 182 

Letter  XVIIL— Malaga. — Aspect  of  the  Town. — Narrow  and  Crooked  Streets. 
— The  Protestant  Burial-Ground. — Decline  of  Fanaticism.— Tropical  Plants. 
— Monuments. — The  Public  Cemetery. — Eobbers.— Death  of  a  Bandit. — A 
Boy  made  Captive. — Statuettes  of  Baked  Earth 192 

Letter  XIX. — Journey  to  Grenada. — Aspect  of  the  Country.— Colmenar. — 
Loja. — The  Eiver  Genii. — Beauty  of  Grenada. — The  Alhambra. — ^Beauty  of 
its  Architecture. — Eestoration  of  the  Buildings  and  Eemoval  of  the  Spanish 
Additions. — Garden  of  the  Moorish  Kings. — Cathedral  of  Grenada. — Tomb 
of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella.— Grenada  in  Spring. — Ugliness  of  the  Town. — 
The  Gypsies. — A  Spanish  Visitor. — "Women  of  Grenada.— A  Castilian's 
Opinion  of  the  People. — Eeturn  to  Malaga 201 

Letter  XX. — Departure  from  the  African  Coast— Softness  of  the  Climate  of 
Malaga. — Collision  of  our  Steamer  with  Another. — The  Spanish  Language 
in  the  East. — View  of  the  Spanish  Shore.— Pirates  of  the  Barbary  Coast. — 
Landing  at  Merz-el-Kebir. — A  Spanish  Boatman.— Spanish  Colonists  at 
Oran. — Custom-Houses. — Beauty  of  the  African  Shore. — Oran. — Its  Motley 

Throngs  of  Inhabitants. — An  Effect  of  the  Commercial  Panic 216 

1* 


10  CONTENTS. 

Page 
Letter  XXI. — Principal  Mosque  at  Oran. — Its  Interior. — "Worshippers  at 
their  Devotions. — An  Arab  Village. — An  Arab  Beauty. — Group  of  Native 
Youths. — The  Surrounding  Country.— A  Troublesome  Yisitor.— Castles  and 
Fortresses. — Spaniards  Living  in  Caves. — Eeturn  to  Merz-el-Kebir  and  Ee- 
embarkment. — ^Arrival  at  Algiers. — Lower  Part  of  the  Town. — Its  French 
Character. — Upper  Part  of  the  Town. — Its  Strange  Aspect. — Silent  Popula- 
tion.—A  Beautiful  Sunset 226 

Letter  XXII. — The  Great  Mosque  at  Algiers. — A  French  Public  Garden. — 
Moslem  Cemetery  and  Chapels. — Women  at  the  Graves  and  Tombs. — A 
Crazy  Man. — A  Woman  Asking  Alms. — The  Casbah. — A  Native  School. — 
A  French  Girls'  School. — A  Moorish  House. — The  Kabyles. — Public  Mar- 
kets.— Negro  Women. — Departure  from  Algiers. — The  Colony. — Its  Euro- 
pean Population. — Health  of  the  Country. — Decay  of  the  Native  Popula- 
tion in  the  Towns.— Slow  Growth  of  the  Colony.— An  Accident. — Arrival  at 
Marseilles 239 

Letter  XXIII. — Late  Discoveries  of  Antiquities  at  Kome. — Excavations  in 
the  Campagna.— Sepulchral  Chambers  and  Sarcophagi. — Throng  of  Visitors. 
— Two  Cardinals.— Excavations  at  Ostia. — Changes  for  the  Better  at  Eome. 
— American  Artists.— Death  of  Bartholomew  the  Sculptor 253 

Letter  XXIV. — Aix  les  Bains. — Florence  and  its  Changes. — Bologna,  its 
Burial-Place  and  New  Arcades. — Ferrara. — Venice  and  its  German  Popu- 
lation.— Turin. — Exhibition  of  Manufactures. — Sardinian  Silks.— Watches. 
— Inlaid  Wood. — Lithographs.— The  Waldenses  and  their  Worship 261 

Letter  XXV.— A  Death  at  Naples.— Climate  of  that  City.— Nervous  Com- 
plaints.—Enervating  Effect  of  the  Air.— A  Caution 278 


LETTERS  FROM  SPAIN 

AND     OTHER     COUNTRIES 


LETTEK    I. 

THE    FLORAL   EXHIBITION   AT  PARIS DELAROCHE'S   PAINTINGS. 

Paris,  June  11,  1857. 

There  are  some  things  which  can  only  be  done  in  Paris, 
or  at  least  can  only  be  done  by  Frenchmen,  and  one  of  these 
has  furnished  for  the  last  fortnight  a  most  attractive  specta- 
cle for  the  people  of  this  place  and  those  who  visit  it.  The 
French  not  only  delight  in  scenic  effect,  but  produce  it  with 
a  dexterity,  despatch  and  success  which  find  no  parallel  else- 
where. 

A  few  weeks  ago  the  interior  of  the  Palais  de  V Industrie, 
the  Crystal  Palace  of  France,  built  among  the  trees  of  the 
Champs  Elysees,  was  a  bare  and  empty  space,  with  a  floor 
of  dust  and  gravel,  and  rafters  streaming  with  cobwebs.  The 
order  for  an  exhibition  of  flowers  was  given,  and  in  three  or  four 
weeks  the  dusty  waste  was  transformed  into  a  fresh  and  beau- 
tiful garden.  I  went  to  see  it  the  other  day — a  hot  day  for 
the  season.     We  passed  from  the  entrance  to  the  garden 


12  TROPICAL     PLANTS. 

through  an  alley  embowered  with  evergreens,  young  pines 
and  firs,  planted  for  the  occasion,  filling  the  cool  air  with 
resinous  odors.  On  each  side  of  the  alley  were  benches,  in- 
viting the  visitor  who  might  be  wearied  with  his  walk,  to  rest 
awhile.  Thence  we  passed  into  the  vast  area  beyond  the 
columns  which  support  the  galleries,  and  here  the  floor  was 
covered  with  a  bright  green  turf,  closely  shaven,  formed  into 
hillocks  and  gentle  slopes,  surrounding  beds  of  shrubs  and 
other  plants  in  full  bloom,  and  intersected  by  winding  walks. 
Here  were  thickets  of  rhododendrons  of  different  varieties ; 
here  was  a  group  of  our  own  mountain  laurel,  as  beautiful  as 
any  seen  in  our  forests ;  here  were  showy  companies  of  azaleas 
of  all  tinges  of  color,  from  bright  scarlet  to  pure  white ;  here 
were  beds  of  roses  and  wildernesses  of  geraniums,  pampered 
into  innumerable  diversities,  perfuming  the  air.  All  had  their 
roots  in  the  soil ;  and  a  friendly  soil  it  seemed,  for  though 
the  exhibition  had  already  lasted  a  fortnight,  there  was 
nothing  faded  or  withered ;  every  blossom  and  leaf  was  as 
fresh  as  it  could  have  been  in  its  native  bed.  The  tropical 
flowers  themselves  seemed  not  to  miss,  under  this  immense 
canopy  of  glass,  their  own  genial  climate.  A  young  date- 
palm  stood  on  one  of  the  hillocks,  with  plants  of  its  own  lat- 
itudes clustering  and  blooming  around  it. 

In  the  midst  of  the  area  a  little  fountain  threw  up  its 
waters,  which  formed  themselves  into  what  had  the  appear- 
ance of  a  winding  brook.  A  rustic  bridge  bestrode  the  little 
stream,  which,  to  say  the  truth,  was  not  quite  so  transparent 
as  one  of  our  country  brooks,  for  it  was  the  turbid  water  of 


BLACK     SWANS.  13 

the  Seine ;  but  it  was  glassy  enough  on  the  surface  to  make 
a  mirror  for  some  magnificent  water-plants  whose  roots  were 
steeped  by  it.  Two  black  swans  from  New  Holland,  as  we 
crossed  the  bridge,  were  standing  on  the  brink  of  the  water, 
each  supported  by  one  broad  foot,  the  other  coiled  up  under 
the  body,  and  the  head  tucked  under  one  wing.  As  we  ap- 
proached, they  suddenly  pulled  out  their  heads  from  under 
their  wings,  put  the  uplifted  foot  to  the  ground,  uttered  a 
clanging  cry,  and  taking  to  the  water  sailed  off  among  the 
groups  of  calla  and  iris  that  fringed  the  bank. 

The  exhibition  was  visited  by  a  crowd  of  people,  and 
groups  of  smartly-dressed  Parisian  ladies  were  hovering  about 
the  flowers  like  butterflies.  Among  the  roses  exhibited  were 
some  fine  new  varieties,  which  it  is  the  fashion  of  the  day  to 
name  after  eminent  military  commanders.  A  large  blush- 
rose  bears  the  name  of  Lord  Eaglan,  and  a  larger,  with 
flaming  blood-red  petals,  the  name  of  General  Jacqueminot. 
I  believe  this  is  regarded  as  a  very  desirable  addition  to  the 
stock  of  roses. 

As  I  was  about  leaving  the  place,  I  observed  a  gentle- 
man looking  at  me  with  a  very  attentive  scrutiny,  as  if  he 
thought  he  might  have  seen  me  before.  A  second  glance 
suflSced  me  to  recognize  him ;  it  was  Mons.  Vattemare,  author 
of  the  system  of  International  Exchanges,  looking  as  fresh  as 
any  of  the  flowers  in  their  beds  around  him.  He  hurried  me 
off  to  a  place  under  one  of  the  galleries,  where  he  had  a  little 
niche,  in  which  were  suspended  in  rows  ears  of  maize  of  dif- 
ferent varieties,  from  the  State  of  New  York,  and  on  the  table 


14  DELAROCHE'S     PAINTINGS. 

lay  the  two  quarto  volumes  of  the  Natural  History  of  the 
same  State,  which  treat  of  its  botany.  The  ears  of  Indian 
corn,  I  was  not  displeased  to  see,  made  a  much  better  appear- 
ance than  the  samples  from  Algeria,  which  were  suspended 
on  a  wall  immediately  opposite.  As  we  were  talking  about 
them,  two  Orientals,  with  glittering  black  eyes  and  jet  black 
beards,  wearing  the  high,  shaggy  Persian  cap — one  of  them 
with  features  so  regular  and  finely  formed  that  they, might 
have  served  as  a  pattern  for  an  ideal  bust — came  up,  and  ad- 
dressing Mons.  Vattemare  in  French,  asked  him  for  some  of 
the  ears  of  maize  to  take  to  their  own  country.  "  I  will  give 
you  them,  and  a  great  many  other  things  beside,"  he  an- 
swered, delighted  to  find  the  opportunity  of  pushing  his  sys- 
tem of  international  exchanges  in  a  new  quarter.  In  the 
midst  of  the  dialogue  which  followed,  and  which  was  carried 
on  with  great  spirit  and  earnestness  on  the  part  of  Mons. 
Vattemare,  I  took  my  leave. 

The  same  day  I  went  to  an  exhibition  of  the  works  of 
Paul  Delaroche,  whose  reputation  as  a  painter  is  as  great  in 
the  United  States  as  here.  Shortly  before  his  death  he  ex- 
pressed a  desire  to  paint  a  picture  the  subject  of  which  should 
be  of  universal  interest,  in  order  to  give  the  proceeds  to  un- 
fortunate artists  and  workmen  in  the  studios  of  artists.  His 
friends  have  thought  that  the  best  method  of  fulfilling  a  de- 
sign which  the  artist  himself  was  only  prevented  from  fulfilling 
by  death,  would  be  to  assemble  all  his  pictures  in  one  gallery 
and  give  the  profits  of  this  exhibition  to  the  charitable  fund  of 
the  Association  of  Artists,  Painters,  Sculptors,  &c.,  of  which 


PORTRAITS   OF  NAPOLEON.  15 

Delaroche  ^vas  President.  His  works  have  accordingly  been 
brought  together  from  various  collections,  private  and  pub- 
lic, in  this  country,  in  England  and  elsewhere.  They  illus- 
trate, curiously,  the  gloomy  character  of  his  genius.  You 
look  about  the  walls,  and  you  are  in  the  midst  of  deathbeds, 
executions,  assassinations.  The  least  interesting  of  these 
pictures  is  the  death  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  The  gigantic  old 
woman,  sprawling  on  her  couch  upon  the  floor,  her  harsh 
features  livid  with  mortal  disease,  is  a  horrid  object ;  nor  is 
there  any  thing  in  the  rest  of  the  picture  to  make  amends 
for  the  disagreeable  impression  produced  by  this  principal 
figure.  The  series  of  portraits  of  Napoleon  forms  of  itself 
a  tragedy,  and  a  most  impressive  one.  The  first  of  these  is 
"  Napoleon  crossing  the  Alps,"  with  which  the  American 
public  is  familiar.  As  he  is  making  his  way  through  the 
mountain  snows,  you  see  that  he  is  revolving  his  great  plans 
of  conquest.  You  read  in  the  eye  of  the  young  adventurer 
untameable  resolution  and  absolute  confidence  in  his  own 
fortunes.  In  the  next  picture,  "  Napoleon  in  his  Closet," 
you  have  him  in  the  noon  of  life,  his  ambitious  desires  grati- 
fied, and  the  continent  of  Europe  at  his  feet.  His  eye  is 
lighted  up  with  a  proud  satisfaction,  as  he  contemplates  the 
strength  and  security  of  the  power  he  has  founded  by  his 
single  arm.  In  the  third  painting,  "  Napoleon  at  Fontaine- 
bleau,"  you  see  the  great  egotist  after  his  fall,  older,  grosser 
in  person,  arrived  at  the  palace  from  a  hasty  flight,  his  boots 
spattered  with  mud,  his  riding  coat  not  laid  by ;  one  arm 
hanging  over  the  back  of  the  chair,  as  if  never  to  be  re- 


16         NAPOLEON  AFTER  HIS  FALL. 

moved,  and  liis  eyes  staring  into  futurity  with  the  fixed,  sul- 
len gaze  of  despair.  In  all  these  portraits  the  artist  has 
shown  a  power  which,  it  seems  to  me,  should  place  him  in  a 
high  rank  among  painters,  even  if  he  had  done  nothing 
else. 


PAUPER     COLONIES.  17 


LETTEE    II. 

THE     PAUPER     COLONIES     OF     HOLLAND. 

Heidelberg,  July  14,  1857. 

I  have  made,  with  my  family,  the  tour  of  Belgium  and 
Holland,  and  coming  down  from  Friesland  by  one  of  the 
Hanoverian  railways  to  the  Khine,  am  resting  for  a  few  days  in 
Heidelberg.  We  are  the  more  disposed  to  suspend  our 
somewhat  rapid  journey  here,  on  account  of  the  heat  of  the 
weather,  which  is  very  great,  one  hot  day  succeeding  another, 
with  no  interruption  from  showers,  the  sky  being  as  intense- 
ly dazzling  as  our  own. 

While  in  the  northern  part  of  Holland,  I  made  a  visit  to 
the  pauper  colonies  of  Fredericksoord  and  Willemsoord,  in 
the  province  of  Overyssel.  Here  are  tracts  of  sandy  soil 
covered  with  heath  and  shrubs,  which,  from  the  time  when 
they  were  first  formed  from  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  till  now, 
have  been  abandoned  to  utter  barrenness.  The  great  calam- 
ity of  Holland  is  pauperism,  and  somewhat  more  than  thirty 
years  ago  a  benevolent  society  was  formed  for  the  purpose 
of  settling  the  poor,  who  had  become  a  public  charge,  upon 
the  waste  lands  of  the  kingdom,  with  a  view  of  reducing 
them    to    cultivation.       They   purchased   a   tract   of  land, 


18  DWELLINGS     OF     THE     PAUPERS. 

mostly  uncultivated,  in  the  province  of  Overyssel,  where 
they  made  a  beginning  with  some  of  the  poor  of  Amsterdam, 
who  had  been  thrown  upon  the  public  charity.  The  colony 
thus  established  has  now  increased  to  a  considerable  commu- 
nity, yet  it  has  made,  I  suppose,  as  much  impression  upon 
the  vast  mass  of  pauperism  in  Holland,  as  the  Colonization 
Society  has  made  upon  the  mass  of  slavery  in  the  United 
States. 

We  took  a  carriage  at  the  ancient  village  of  Steenwyck, 
and  proceeded  over  a  road  so  sandy  that  we  were  obliged  to 
travel  very  slowly,  and  rendered  almost  impassable  in 
some  places  by  an  attempt  to  macadamize  it.  We  passed 
several  comfortable  looking  tenements  of  the  peasantry,  with 
little  flower  gardens  in  front  of  them,  and  at  length  the 
coachman  said,  "  We  are  in  the  colony." 

I  could  not  see  that  the  habitations  of  the  paupers  seem- 
ed any  less  comfortable  than  those  of  the  district  through 
which  we  had  just  passed.  They  were  neat  brick  buildings, 
spacious  enough  to  contain,  besides  the  rooms  for  the  family, 
a  stable  for  the  cow,  a  place  for  the  pig,  and  a  room  for  the 
fuel.  Near  each  was  a  little  garden  surrounded  by  a  well- 
pleached  hawthorn  hedge,  and  outside  of  the  hedge  a  ditch  ; 
for  the  Hollander,  from  mere  habit,  always  surrounds  his  do- 
main with  a  ditch,  whether  there  is  any  occasion  for  it  or 
not.  Back  of  the  gardens  were  fields  of  rye  and  barley  and 
other  crops,  and  beyond,  in  places,  was  a  forest  of  shrubs 
and  dwarf  trees,  looking  like  the  scrub-oak  plains  on  the  worst 
parts  of  Tjong  Island ;  and,  in  places,  extensive  wastes,  the 


NEATNESS     OF     THE     DWELLINGS.  10 

like  of  which  is  not  seen  in  our  country,  covered  with  dark 
heath  of  a  purple  tinge,  and  stretching  out  of  sight. 

The  Director  was  not  at  home,  and  wc  were  accompanied 
over  the  village  by  one  of  the  bookkeepers,  who  was  ready  to 
communicate  what  he  knew,  but  who  spoke  French,  the  only 
language  we  understood  in  common,  very  imperfectly,  and  in 
a  low  tone  of  voice.  He  took  us  into  several  of  the 
dwellings.  The  first  Ave  entered  was  that  of  a  widow  from 
Groningen,  who  had  two  or  three  children  able  to  work  at 
the  loom.  It  was  a  miracle  of  neatness.  The  woman  had 
established  in  the  outer  room  her  summer  kitchen,  in  which 
were  the  pig-pen  and  stable,  and  had  made  it  as  clean  as  the 
nicest  parlor  in  our  own  country.  We  looked  into  the  win- 
ter room — it  was  as  nice  as  a  new  sideboard  just  from  the 
cabinetmaker's.  She  had  a  comfortable  bed  in  a  little  closet, 
after  the  Dutch  fashion.  In  a  room  above  were  the  beds  of 
the  children,  in  a  kind  of  boxes  on  each  side.  Notwithstand- 
ing these  appearances  of  comfort,  the  woman  took  our  courier 
aside,  and  complained  bitterly  of  the  hardness  of  her  lot. 
She  affirmed  that  she  was  half  starved,  and  begged  him  to 
intercede  with  the  Director  in  her  behalf.  When  the  matter 
was  afterwards  mentioned  to  the  bookkeeper  he  said  that 
there  was  no  end  to  the  complaints  of  these  people,  and  that 
the  more  they  got  the  more  they  asked  for.  We  went  into 
another  house,  in  which  was  a  good-looking  family  of  both 
sexes,  well  clad,  and  living  in  a  manner  which  had  every 
appearance  of  thrift.  The  rooms  glittered  with  the  display 
of  crockery  and  polished  metal  utensils,  and  were  hung  with 
cheap  engravings. 


20  SCHOOLS     OF     THE     COLONY. 

We  were  taken  to  the  manufactory  of  the  village,  a  room 
full  of  looms,  where  coarse  cotton  cloth  is  woven  by  the  children 
between  twelve  and  eighteen  years  of  age,  for  the  Dutch  sol- 
diery in  the  East  Indies.  The  looms  were  clashing  merrily — 
the  girls,  in  particular,  jerked  the  shuttles  backward  and  for- 
ward with  incredible  swiftness.  "  These  children,"  said  the 
bookkeeper,  "  earn  a  great  deal  for  their  families :  in  fact, 
those  who  come  to  our  colony  must  either  work  or  starve ;  if 
they  are  obstinately  idle,  they  get  nothing  to  eat." 

We  were  shown  the  school-house — a  building  with  two 
spacious  rooms,  in  which  the  children  were  taught  according 
to  the  liberal  system  of  public  education  established  in  Hol- 
land. The  school  had  been  suspended  for  a  while,  as  the 
building  was  undergoing  repairs.  Eeligious  teachers  are  pro- 
vided for  the  colony — a  Protestant,  a  Catholic,  and  a  Jewish 
Kabbi.  The  colonists  receive  copper  and  iron  tokens  for  their 
labor,  and  this  forms  the  money  of  the  colony.  With  these 
they  purchase  the  necessaries  for  which  they  have  occasion, 
from  the  magazines  of  the  colony,  where  every  thing  is  sold 
but  intoxicating  liquors,  the  sale  of  which  is  forbidden. 

I  could  obtain  no  exact  information  of  the  profit  or  loss 
of  this  enterprise.  "These  people,"  said  the  bookkeeper, 
"  cost  the  society  a  great  deal.  They  come  from  the  cities 
unaccustomed  to  the  work  we  require  of  them,  and  often  with 
families  of  very  young  children,  who  are  of  too  tender  an 
age  to  work.  They  must  be  subsisted,  and  their  subsistence  is 
a  heavy  charge." 

There  are  now  about  four  hundred  families  in  the  colony, 


POPULATION  OF  THE  COLONY.        21 

numbering  two  thousand  six  hundred  persons.  To  prevent 
the  excessive  growth  of  the  community,  and  to  confine  the 
operations  of  the  institution  to  their  original  object,  all  the 
young,  on  reaching  the  age  of  twenty,  are  obliged  to  leave 
it,  as  well  as  all  the  young  who  marry.  As  the  older  mem- 
bers drop  off,  their  places  are  supplied  by  paupers  from  the 
towns.  In  the  mean  time  thousands  of  acres  have  been  re- 
claimed from  their  primeval  wild  state,  and  turned  into  pro- 
ductive fields. 


22  SWISS     INGENUITY. 


LE  TTEE    III. 

THE    SWISS    INDUSTRIAL    EXHIBITION THE    NEW   FEDERAL   PAL- 
ACE  ANNUAL   EXHIBITION   OF  WORKS  OF  ART. 

Bern,  Switzerland,  August  1,  1867. 
The  Swiss  are  among  the  most  ingenious  of  the  European 
nations ;  they  possess  in  a  high  degree  the  constructive  fac- 
ulty ;  you  have  only  to  look  at  their  houses  to  be  convinced 
of  this.  It  seems  to  me  that  they  are  the  best  carpenters  in 
the  world.  The  Swiss  peasantry  are  lodged,  I  believe,  in 
more  spacious  dwellings  than  any  other  peasantry  in  Europe 
— dwellings  as  admirably  suited  to  their  climate  as  they  are 
picturesque.  Under  their  overshadowing  roofs,  which  form  a 
shelter  from  their  hot  suns  in  summer,  they  hang  the  outer 
wall  with  balconies  and  galleries,  which  form  passages  above 
the  deep  snows  of  their  winters.  The  ends  of  the  beams  and 
rafters  and  the  braces  are  shaped  into  ornamental  projec- 
tions, so  that  what  would  otherwise  be  the  deformity,  be- 
comes the  grace  of  the  building.  The  Swiss  Avere  long  ago 
the  best  bridge-builders  in  Europe,  of  which  the  bridge  at 
Schaffhausen,  destroyed  by  the  French  in  the  latter  part  of 
the  last  century,  constructed  entirely  of  timber,  witli  a  span 
of  365  feet,  yet  without  any  support  except  at  the  two  ends, 


w 


SWISS     MANUFACTURES.  23 


was  a  remai'kable  example.  In  the  long  winters  of  the  Al- 
pine regions,  the  peasants  employ  themselves  in  carving,  with 
their  penknives,  figures  and  images  and  objects  of  various 
kinds  out  of  wood,  with  all  the  patience  and  nicety  of  Chi- 
nese artisans,  and  a  hundred  times  the  elegance.  On  the 
high-roads  in  the  valleys  of  the  Bernese  Oberland,  the  travel- 
ler will  have  the  children  of  the  herdsmen  trotting  beside 
him,  offering  him  for  a  single  franc  the  miniature  of  a  Swiss 
cottage,  carved  with  all  the  delicacy  of  frost  work. 

It  is  clear  that  if  all  this  dexterity  and  patience  were  di- 
rected to  the  great  branches  of  manufacture,  the  Swiss  must 
excel.  It  is  so,  in  fact.  I  have  just  come  from  looking  at 
an  exhibition  of  Swiss  industry  noAV  open  in  this  beautiful 
city.  An  intelligent  American  gentleman  went  through  it 
with  me,  who  was  as  much  surprised  as  myself,  both  at  the 
variety  of  the  manufactures  and  their  excellence.  The  spec- 
tacle was  to  me  the  more  interesting  because  the  manufac- 
tures of  Switzerland  prosper  without  any  of  those  helps  which, 
in  the  opinion  of  some,  are  indispensable — without  prohib- 
itory or  protective  duties,  or,  indeed,  high  duties  of  any  kind. 
They  prosper,  too,  in  a  country  surrounded  by  powerful  gov- 
ernments which  yet  adhere  to  the  protective  system,  and  on 
which  the  Swiss  have  never  thought  it  for  their  advantage  to 
retaliate. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  the  Swiss  have  some  important 
natural  advantages  for  manufacturing  pursuits.  Their  moun- 
tains abound  with  ores  of  the  useful  metals ;  enormous  forests 
are  at  hand  to  supply  the  furnaces  in  which  these  ores  are 


24  FREE     TRADE     IN     SWITZERLAND. 

smelted,  and  the  torrents  whicli  rush  down  the  mountain 
sides  wield  the  hammers  by  which  the  metals  are  beaten  into 
plates  and  bars.  A  calculating  Yankee  would  be  shocked  to 
see  the  proportion  of  water-power  in  this  country  running  to 
waste.  Mills  might  be  built  on  the  Swiss  streams  to  manu- 
facture for  the  world,  without  much  disfiguring  the  grand  as- 
pect of  Swiss  scenery.  In  going  up  any  of  their  mountains, 
you  hear  the  bells  of  the  herds  for  a  vast  distance  around 
you.  A  milHon  of  neat  cattle  are  fed  in  the  pastures,  with  a 
million  and  a  quarter  of  sheep  and  goats,  and  the  woods 
which  supply  fuel  for  the  forges  and  founderies  furnish  bark 
for  tanning  the  skins  of  these  animals.  In  the  forest  cantons 
the  driver  of  your  carriage  will  point  out,  from  time  to  time, 
in  some  gorge  of  the  mountains,  where  the  stream  comes 
down  through  the  forest,  a  large  building  in  wliich  glass  is 
made.  The  manufacturer  in  Switzerland  has  had  the  ad- 
vantage from  the  first,  that  he  has-  no  tax  to  pay  on  the 
crude  material  which  he  employs. 

I  was  not,  therefore,  unprepared  to  see  in  the  exhibition 
at  Bern  a  creditable  display  of  objects  wrought  of  iron  and 
other  useful  metals.  Here  were  fire  engines,  locomotives  for 
the  railways,  which  the  people  of  the  Confederation  are 
industriously  building  in  all  parts  of  their  country  ;  engines 
for  the  steamers  on  the  lakes,  and  machines  for  calico-print- 
ing— all  of  admirable  workmanship ;  here  were  stoves  for 
kitchen  and  parlor,  of  cast  or  sheet  iron,  which  certainly  in 
finish,  if  not  in  other  respects,  were  beyond  what  we  produce 
in  our  country ;  here  were  busts  and  statuettes  in  cast-iron,  well 


SWISS    WATCHES.  25 

designed,  of  a  smoothness  of  surface  equal  to  porcelain,  and 
great  precision  of  outline.  Geneva  had  sent  muskets,  rifles 
and  fowling-pieces,  beautifully  wrought,  and  there  were  sam- 
ples of  cutlery  from  the  workshops  of  Thurgau,  Argau,  Bern 
and  Glarus,  which  might  almost  bear  comparison  with  the 
cutlery  of  Great  Britain.  The  Swiss  make  their  own  pins  in 
the  mills  at  Schaffliausen.  Of  their  watches  I  need  say 
nothing,  since  in  that  branch  of  industry  they  work  with 
greater  nicety  and  cheapness  than  the  people  of  any  other 
country,  and  even  furnish  a  large  proportion  of  the  mecha- 
nism of  what  are  called  English  watches.  Five  cantons  of 
Switzerland  employ  in  watchmaking  thirty-six  thousand 
persons. 

Beside  the  iron  stoves,  there  were  porcelain  ones — ^Avhite 
porcelain — of  elegant  forms,  a  much  pleasanter  and  more 
cleanly  piece  of  furniture  than  the  iron  ones  we  have  at  home. 
I  cannot  say  much  for  the  samples  of  table  porcelain  in  the 
exhibition ;  they  were  of  the  homeliest  kind,  and  had  no  pre- 
tensions to  elegance.  Of  the  plainer  kinds  of  glass  there  was 
a  respectable  share,  and  of  elegant  plate  glass  a  few  samples. 
Switzerland  furnishes  the  bottles  for  her  own  wines  and  min- 
eral waters.  The  tanners  of  the  country  have  by  no  means 
an  idle  time  of  it,  if  I  might  judge  from  the  quantity  of  the 
leather,  including  morocco  and  patent  leather,  and  the  ex- 
quisitely tanned  skins  of  the  chamois  goat,  with  which  the 
walls  of  one  of  the  lower  rooms  were  hung. 

What  most  surprised  me  in  the  exhibition  was  the  perfec- 
tion which  the  silk  manufacture  had  attained.  The  silk 
2 


26  SWISS     EMBROIDERY. 

cloths  of  Zurich,  both  light  and  heavy,  were  of  excellent 
quality,  though  they  wanted  the  beauty  of  the  French  tissues, 
but  the  ribbons  of  Basle  and  Zurich  vie  with  those  of  France 
in  texture,  lustre,  beauty  of  design  and  brilliancy  of  color. 
Several  ribbon-looms  were  in  the  exliibition — flight,  ingenious 
machines — in  one  of  which  a  landscape,  and  in  another  a 
bouquet  of  flowers  of  different  colors  and  shapes,  were  woven. 
The  housewives,  I  suppose,  would  expect  me  to  mention  the 
beautiful  sewing-silks  of  Aargau. 

There  are  woollen  mills  in  Zurich  and  elsewhere,  but  the 
quality  of  the  goods  produced  is  not  fine ;  the  Swiss  sheep,  I 
believe,  are  rather  coarse- woolled.  The  hair  of  the  goat  is 
wrought  into  elegant  and  showy  tissues — plaids  generally, 
and  of  brilliant  colors.  The  cotton  cloths  are  strong  and 
serviceable ;  the  printed  cottons  are  of  two  kinds — the  cali- 
coes and  the  muslins  ;  the  calicoes  ugly,  and  the  muslins  de- 
licate and  beautiful.  Fields  of  flax  often  meet  the  eye  in 
Switzerland,  and  acres  of  linen  at  this  season  are  seen  bleach- 
ing by  the  streams.  There  were  many  good  samples  of 
linen  in  the  exhibition. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  departments  of  Swiss  indus- 
try is  embroidery,  and  of  this  there  were  many  superb  sam- 
ples. In  one  of  these,  the  maidens  of  Appenzell  had  em- 
broidered their  Jungfrau  on  an  immense  curtain  of  white 
muslin.  Another  from  the  canton  of  St.  Gallen  had  flowers 
in  high  relief,  the  petals  raised  from  the  muslin  and  turning 
back  against  it,  as  in  a  carving.  In  other  samples  were 
fountains  and  forests;  others  were  of  architectural  design, 


SKINS     OF     BIRDS.  27 

intermingled  with  graceful  human  figures.  There  are  in  Ap- 
penzell  and  St.  Gallen  six  thousand  persons  who  live  by  this 
sort  of  needlework. 

Of  course  there  were  many  samples  of  carving  in  wood, 
but  these  were  excelled  by  the  carvings  in  ivory — an  art 
which  seems  to  have  sprung  naturally  from  the  national  skill 
in  wood-carving,  Among  these  I  noticed  a  little  group  of 
trees,  wrought  with  such  delicacy  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  fo- 
liage must  tremble  and  turn  with  the  wind. 

In  the  north  they  slay  animals  for  their  fur ;  but  the 
Swiss  finds  a  substitute  for  fur  in  the  skins  of  the  birds  which 
haunt  his  lakes.  There  were  numerous  samples  of  muffs, 
tippets  and  cufis  formed  of  this  material ;  some  of  them  of  a 
silvery  whiteness,  others  nearly  black,  all  of  them  extremely 
light,  smooth  and  glistening.  The  names  of  the  birds  which 
had  been  made  to  yield  this  singular  contribution  to  the  na- 
tional fair  were  annexed  to  the  articles — ^they  were  mostly 
water-fowl  of  the  grebe  family,  and  the  kinds  related  to  it. 
These  were  the  mergus  merganser^  the  anas  ferina,  and  others 
which  I  do  not  remember. 

Among  the  frolics  of  Swiss  ingenuity  I  noticed  a  group 
of  stuffed  skins,  the  wild  quadrupeds  and  native  birds  of 
Switzerland,  so  skilfully  adjusted  that  one  could  scarcely  be- 
lieve that  they  were  not  alive.  On  the  shelves  of  what  seem- 
ed a  mountain-peak,  were  owls  of  different  kinds,  and  other 
birds,  feeding  their  wide-mouthed  young ;  eagles  tearing  a 
pigeon  in  pieces,  foxes  lurking  behind  the  crags,  a  chamois 
climbing  a  rock,  and  another  apparently  listening  on  the 


28  PALACE     OF     THE     CONFEDERATION. 

summit  for  the  approach  of  his  enemies  from  below.  An- 
other was  a  water-fall  pouring  over  a  rock,  formed  of  some 
composition  in  such  a  manner  as  to  avoid  that  patched  ap- 
pearance which  generally  belongs  to  rock-work,  and  half 
draped  with  wild  herbage. 

I  fear  I  have  tired  the  readers  of  this  letter,  as  I  have 
done  myself,  with  this  recital ;  but  I  hope  that  I  have  given 
them  some  idea  of  the  variety,  the  pertinacity  and  the  suc- 
cess of  Swiss  ingenuity. 

The  manufactures  were  exhibited  in  the  barracks  near 
the  northern  gate  of  the  city,  but  there  was  another  depart- 
ment of  the  exhibition,  that  of  the  Fine  Arts,  which  was  held 
in  the  new  Palace  of  the  Confederation.  The  palace,  not  yet 
finished,  is  a  sumptuous  building,  in  the  Byzantine  style, 
worthy  to  be  the  place  of  assembly  for  the  representatives  of 
a  republic  like  Switzerland.  The  quarries  around  Bern  yield 
a  light-brown  sand-stone,  which,  when  first  taken  from  its 
bed,  is  as  easily  chipped  as  chalk,  and  of  this  the  palace  is 
built.  It  surrounds  three  sides  of  a  quadrangle,  with  a  mas- 
sive balcony  in  the  front  of  the  building  resting  on  richly- 
carved  brackets,  and  on  the  other  side,  within  the  quad- 
rangle, a  vaulted  ante-room  resting  on  columns,  through 
which  is  the  principal  entrance.  From  the  balcony,  and  the 
terrace  on  which  the  palace  stands,  you  have  a  view  of  the 
green  valley  of  the  Aar  immediately  below  you,  and  beyond 
the  hills  which  bound  the  valley  rise  the  snowy  summits  of 
the  Bernese  Oberland. 

I  found  less  to  interest  me  in  the  annual  exhibition  of 


SWISS     PAINTINGS.  29 

Swiss  works  of  art  than  I  had  hoped.  A  Swiss  friend,  who 
accompanied  me,  directed  my  attention  to  a  large  historical 
picture,  by  Volmar  of  Bern,  representing  the  battle  of  Mor- 
garten,  in  1315.  It  is  painted  with  a  good  deal  of  knowl- 
edge, but  it  looked  to  me  as  if  the  artist  had  conceived  and 
studied  each  figure  separately,  and  then  put  them  all  together 
in  a  group  as  he  best  might.  The  light  is  lurid  and  like 
moonshine.  There  were  several  historical  pictures  of  a 
smaller  size,  by  Yogel  of  Zurich,  full  of  commonplace  faces 
and  draperies  like  leather.  The  landscapes  were  better. 
There  were  a  few  exceedingly  spirited  drawings  of  Swiss 
scenery  in  water  colors.  Calame  of  Geneva  has  an  excellent 
picture  in  the  collection,  called  "  The  Torrent."  Grisel  of 
Neufchatel,  Isenzing  of  St.  Gallen,  Jenni  of  Solothurn,  Kaiser 
of  Staz,  Roller  of  Zurich,  Meyer  of  Luzern,  and  Zimmermann 
of  Geneva,  had  all  clever  landscapes  in  the  gallery — repre- 
sentations of  Swiss  scenery,  the  contemplation  of  which  ought 
to  make  a  man  a  landscape  painter  if  any  thing  can.  But 
this  is  a  mere  "  muster-roll  of  names,"  and  I  have  no  time  for 
more  particular  remark. 


30  THE     BATHS     OF     LUCHON. 


LETTEE   IV. 

A  WATERING-PLACE  IN  THE  PYRENEES. 

Bagneres  de  Luchon,  Hautes  Pyrenees,  ) 
September  8,  1867.  } 

Much  as  my  countrymen  travel,  there  are  few  of  them,  I 
think,  who  come  to  the  warm  springs  or  baths  of  Luchon — 
the  Bagneres  de  Luchon,  as  they  are  called  here — and  few 
are  aware  what  a  charming  spot  it  is,  what  a  delightful  sum- 
mer climate  it  has,  and  how  picturesque  is  the  surrounding 
country.  It  is  Switzerland  with  a  more  even  temperature,  a 
longer  summer,  a  serener  sky,  and  mountains  which  less  ca- 
priciously veil  themselves  in  fogs  at  the  moment  you  wish  to 
get  a  sight  at  them.  The  black  rocks  with  which  they  are 
ribbed  crumble  into  a  darker  and  apparently  a  richer  soil, 
which  lends  the  verdure  of  their  sides  a  deeper  tinge.  Here, 
at  Luchon,  I  see  fields  of  maize  and  millet  half-way  up  the 
mountain  sides,  and  patches  of  buckwheat,  now  in  bloom, 
whitening  almost  their  very  crests. 

At  Geneva  I  fell  in  with  an  English  gentleman,  who  has 
been  botanizing  industriously  on  the  continent  for  seven  years, 
and  had  not  seen  his  native  country  in  all  that  time.  We 
told  him  we  were  going  to  Bagneres  de  Bigorre.     "  Go  ra- 


PRESENT  STATE  OF  GENEVA.         31 

ther  to  Bagneres  de  Luchon,"  he  answered.  "  You  will  there 
be  in  the  heart  of  the  Pyrenees,  while  at  Bigorre  you  would 
be  only  among  their  lower  declivities.  Luchon  is  the  finest 
spot  in  all  the  Pyrenees.  The  accommodations  are  good ; 
they  do  not  fleece  you  there  as  they  do  here  in  Switzerland ; 
the  English  have  not  got  there  yet.  Besides,  you  will  have 
about  you  such  a  magnificent  mountain  Flora."  We  took 
his  advice,  and  set  out  for  Bagneres  de  Luchon.  But  first  I 
must  say  a  word  of  Geneva. 

It  was  hard  to  believe  it  the  same  place  which  I  saw  eight 
years  since.  The  popular  party  which  now  rules  Geneva  have 
pulled  down  the  old  walls  and  forts,  within  which  it  seems  to 
have  been  fancied  that  the  city  might  sustain  a  siege ;  these 
have  been  converted  into  public  promenades  and  building  lots. 
Geneva  is  now  an  open  city,  like  all  our  own  towns,  and  is 
spreading  itself  into  the  country.  Where  Lake  Leman  be- 
gins to  contract  itself  into  the  Khone,  and  the  blue  w^aters  rush 
towards  their  outlet,  large  spaces  on  each  side,  lately  covered 
with  water,  have  been  filled  up  with  the  rubbish  of  the  forts, 
and  massive  quays  and  breakwaters  extending  into  the  lake, 
have  been  built  to  form  a  secure  harbor  for  the  shipping.  Long 
rows  of  stately  buildings,  of  a  cheerful  aspect,  with  broad 
streets  between,  have  been  erected  by  the  water  side.  En- 
terprising men  have  been  attracted  from  other  j)arts  of  Swit- 
zerland and  from  foreign  countries,  by  the  field  here  opened 
to  their  activity,  and  with  them  come  swarms  of  strange  work- 
people. Catholic  priests,  in  their  big  cocked  hats  and  long 
black  gowns  clinging  to  their  legs,  are  now  a  frequent  sight 


32  LYONS.        nImES. 

in  this  city  of  Calvin ;  and  the  Catholics,  now  at  length  admit- 
ted to  full  citizenshij),  are  building  an  elegant  church  on  the 
west  bank  of  the  Ehine.  One  need  not  wonder  that  those 
who  liked  the  old  order  of  things  should  lament  that  the  Ge- 
neva of  to-day  is  no  longer  the  Geneva  of  their  youth. 

In  our  way  to  Luchon  we  stopped  for  a  short  time  at  Ly- 
ons, which  I  found  almost  as  much  changed  in  four  years  as 
Geneva  in  eight.  It  seems  to  have  caught  the  rage  of  demo- 
lition and  reconstruction  from  Paris.  A  broad  street,  like 
one  of  the  Boulevards  of  the  metropolis,  running  from  the 
Place  de  Bellecour  to  the  hills,  has  been  opened  through  the 
heart  of  the  city,  by  beating  down  the  mass  of  old  houses, 
separated  from  each  other  by  narrow  and  gloomy  passages, 
and  constructing  others  of  a  more  cheerful  architecture  in 
their  place.  They  call  the  new  street  the  Rue  Imperiale,  to 
mark  its  epoch.  In  a  paved  square  opened  in  the  middle  of 
this  street,  I  saw  a  group  of  workmen  engaged  in  putting  up 
the  statues  of  a  fountain,  and  not  far  off  a  crowd  of  them 
busy  in  erecting  a  bank  of  elaborate  Italian  architecture. 
Near  the  northern  extremity  of  the  street  another  company 
were  occupied  restoring  and  enlarging  the  Hotel  de  Ville. 

We  passed  a  day  and  a  half  at  Nimes,  in  the  comfortable 
and  spacious  Hotel  du  Luxembourg — ^Nimes,  at  this  season, 
quiet,  dull  and  silent  as  the  vast  interior  of  its  own  grand 
Eoman  amphitheatre.  Its  principal  commerce  at  the  moment 
.  seemed  to  consist  in  disposing  of  the  enormous  quantities  of 
fine  melons  which  I  saw  heaped  on  the  pavement  in  its 
streets.     Nimes  is  a  city  for  a  winter  residence ;  the  August 


TOULOUSE.  33 

sun  glared  upon  us  so  fiercely  that  we  were  withered  by  the 
heat.  I  found  the  turf  under  the  bowers  of  evergreens,  in 
the  garden  above  its  famous  fountain,  scorched  to  snuff  with 
the  summer  fervors.  I  remembered  its  freshness  and  the 
sweet  December  sunshine  that  rested  upon  it  nearly  four 
years  since,  and  almost  wished  it  were  December  again.  Yet, 
even  amidst  this  quiet,  some  new  buildings  were  going  up  at 
Nimes  :  several  elegant  houses  and  a  church  of  a  remarkably 
graceful  Gothic  model,  the  light  and  airy  shafts  and  arches 
carved  out  of  the  cream-colored  stone,  so  easily  wrought,  with 
which  they  build  in  this  country.  There  was  some  activity 
of  a  different  kind — they  were  fitting  up  the  amphitheatre  for 
a  bull-fight  the  next  Sunday,  but  the  keeper  of  the  building 
compassionately  assured  us  that  it  was  a  very  different  thing 
from  a  Spanish  bull-fight,  and  that  there  was  no  danger  in  it 
either  to  the  bull  or  to  the  human  combatants. 

From  Nimes  to  Toulouse,  with  the  exception  of  Montpe- 
lier,  the  environs  of  which  seemed  pleasant,  and  where  the 
air  of  the  sea  breathed  upon  us  with  a  refreshing  coolness,  our 
journey  was  through  an  arid  and  almost  shadeless  country. 
Frontignan,  famed  for  its  grapes,  as  the  delicious  varieties 
which  bear  its  name  with  us  testify,  was  no  exception  ;  nor 
Cette,  which  sends  its  white  wines  to  our  market ;  nor  dirty 
Narbonne,  where  we  got  a  luxurious  dinner  and  passed  a 
night  with  the  fleas.  As  we  approached  Toulouse  the  aspect 
of  the  country  softened,  but  there  was  the  same  dreary  and 
melancholy  lack  of  verdure,  the  same  absence  of  groves,  shade- 
trees  and  grassy  turf,  for  which  no  appearance  of  fruitfulness 


34  BEAUTY     OF     LUCHON. 

can  compensate — and  yet  the  country  is  abundantly  fertile. 
The  city  of  the  Troubadours  detained  us  only  long  enough 
to  look  at  its  curious  old  churches,  and  to  drive  through 
some  of  its  handsome  promenades,  and  we  took  the  dili- 
gence the  next  morning  for  this  place,  passing  over  the  broad 
plains  of  the  Garonne  and  through  several  very  dirty  French 
villages — ^for  the  further  south  you  go  in  France  the  more 
dirt  you  find — till  at  length  we  came  to  where  the  Garonne 
comes  plunging  and  roaring  from  the  mountains.  It  was  like 
the  effect  of  enchantment  to  pass,  as  we  did,  from  a  dust- 
colored  landscape  into  a  valley  of  luxuriant  verdure,  from  a 
flat  level  to  grand  mountain  scenery,  from  silent  streams  to 
sounding  torrents,  from  a  sultry  atmosphere  to  airs  cooled  by 
the  eternal  snows  of  the  glaciers. 

The  baths  of  Luchon,  supplied  by  hot  sulphur  springs 
which  gush  from  a  mountain  side,  have  been  frequented  for 
the  last  two  hundred  years.  For  generation  after  genera- 
tion has  the  ingenuity  of  man  been  exerted  to  render  the 
place  attractive,  to  multiply  its  accommodations,  and  make 
the  mOst  of  its  natural  beauties.  Shady  walks  into  which 
the  noon  sun  cannot  penetrate,  with  seats  of  stone,  squares 
planted  with  pleasant  trees — one  of  these  is  entirely  planted 
with  American  trees,  the  catalpa  and  the  tulip-tree — paths 
beside  the  roaring  torrents,  paths  climbing  the  mountain 
sides,  paths  into  the  thick  forests,  terraces  from  which  you 
look  down  into  the  valleys  and  far  away  among  the  moun- 
tain peaks — these  you  have  all  around  you  ;  and  then  there 
are  excellent  carriage  roads  which  take  you  to  picturesque 


GUIDES     AT     LUCHON.  35 

old  turrets,  and  along  the  windings  of  beautiful  valleys,  and 
beyond  these,  bridle  roads  which  lead  to  cascades,  to  solitary 
highland  lakes  and  to  lofty  summits  of  mountains.  There 
are  guides  whose  occupation  it  is  to  accompany  travellers  to 
the  most  remarkable  points  of  this  region,  and  the  calling  is 
often  hereditary — the  father  training  his  sons  to  it  from  early 
boyhood.  They  are  a  hardy  race  of  men,  healthy  by  their 
occupation,  obliging  and  serviceable  from  habit ;  they  hunt 
wolves,  bears  and  the  wild  goat  in  the  mountains,  when  the 
season  of  the  baths  is  over ;  and  there  is  no  place  in  the 
Pyrenees  to  which  they  will  not  agree  to  conduct  you.  They 
frequently  take  travellers  to  the  top  of  the  Maladetta,  the 
highest  peak  of  the  Pyrenees,  covered  with  perpetual  snow, 
and  only  first  ascended,  about  twelve  years  since,  by  M.  De 
Franqueville.  The  other  day  three  of  them  dragged  an  Eng- 
lishman to  the  top  of  the  Pic  de  la  Pique,  or  Pic  de  la  Picade, 
a  slippery-looking  pinnacle  of  rock,  not  far  from  the  Mala- 
detta, with  sides  almost  perpendicular,  which  had  never  be- 
fore been  scaled. 

If  any  of  the  readers  of  these  letters  should  visit  Lu- 
chon,  I  can  cheerfully,  without  disparagement  to  any  of 
his  brethren,  recommend  one  of  these  guides,  Bertrand  Es- 
trujo,  who  is  certainly  a  favorable  specimen  of  his  tribe. 
Estrujo  is  a  fine,  broad-chested  figure  of  a  man,  with  a  good- 
natured  face,  and  civil,  obliging  manners.  He  will  tell  you 
the  legends  of  the  region  through  which  he  takes  you,  and 
when  these  are  exhausted,  will  sing  you  a  song  in  French  or 
Spanish,  or  in  the  patois  of  the  mountains,  as  you  may  choose ; 


36  VILLAGE     OF     LUCHON. 

or  if  there  is  nothing  to  be  said,  and  you  are  tired  of  silence, 
he  will  crack  his  whip  with  a  succession  of  reports  like  a  roll- 
ing fire  of  pistol  shot — a  sort  of  tattoo  turned  off  from  the  tip 
of  the  lash,  which  is  shivered  into  fibres  and  left  floating  in  the 
air  like  gossamer.  Estrujo  will  give  you  excellent  horses,  or  if 
they  are  not  always  precisely  what  you  desire,  will  apologize 
so  ingeniously  for  their  defects,  or  throw  in  such  skilful  com- 
mendations of  their  real  merits,  that  you  can  hardly  help 
being  satisfied. 

The  main  part  of  Luchon  is  a  shabby  village,  with  dirty- 
looking  houses,  and  narrow,  winding  streets,  on  each  side  of 
which  is  a  paved  gutter,  the  channel  of  a  swiftly-flowing 
little  stream,  diverted  from  the  torrent  of  the  One,  in  which 
the*  women  are  sometimes  seen  washing  their  clothes.  But 
the  south  end  of  Luchon,  called  the  Cours  d^Etigny,  in  which 
the  visitors  to  the  baths  have  their  lodgings,  is  a  noble  street 
— Abroad,  planted  with  a  fourfold  row  of  elms  and  lindens,  and 
bordered  with  large,  commodious  houses,  in  nearly  all  of 
which  apartments  are  let.  To  the  south,  this  pleasant  street 
terminates  at  the  stately  building  erected  to  contain  the 
baths,  and  the  pleasure  ground  surrounding  the  spring  where 
the  waters  are  dispensed  to  those  who  drink  them,  and  just 
at  this  season  it  presents,  all  day  long,  one  of  the  gayest 
spectacles  I  ever  saw. 

At  an  early  hour  arrive  the  diligences  ;  the  street  is  im- 
mediately in  commotion ;  troops  of  servant-women  in  head- 
dresses of  bright-colored  handkerchiefs,  red  and  yellow,  run 
after  them  and  crowd  around  them,  offering  the  newly  arrived 


THE     COUES     D'ETIGNY.  37 

travellers  apartments  in  the  houses  of  their  employers.  You 
hear  a  sound  of  small  bells ;  a  herdsman  is  driving  his  cows 
to  their  mountain  pasture,  or  a  woman  has  brought  her  goat 
to  your  door  to  be  milked.  Companies  of  people,  men  and 
women,  are  departing  on  horseback — each  with  a  guide,  who 
is  known  by  his  cap,  short  jacket  and  loaded  leathern  valise 
strapped  in  front  of  his  saddle.  They  are  setting  out,  per- 
haps, for  the  beautiful  Vallee  du  Lys,  where  the  meadows  at 
this  season  are  as  fresh  and  flowery  as  our  own  in  June,  or  to 
the  Lac  (TOo,  a  blue  pool,  high  among  the  mountains,  sur- 
rounded by  dark  pinnacles  of  rock  flecked  with  fields  of  snow, 
from  one  of  which  a  white  cataract  plunges,  roaring,  into  the 
lake.  Or,  perhaps,  they  are  going  to  the  summit  called  the 
Pic  de  rAnticade,  from  which  you  look  down  into  the  valleys 
of  Catalonia,  or  to  that  called  the  Fort  de  Venasque,  whence 
you  look  down  into  those  of  Aragon  and  over  the  mountains 
of  that  province.  If  the  company  consist  of  one  or  three,  and 
these  are  men,  perhaps  they  are  about  to  ascend  the  Mala- 
detta.  Carriages  are  drawn  up  before  the  doors  of  the 
houses ;  they  are  waiting  to  convey  the  lodgers  to  the  old 
town  of  St.  Beat,  in  a  narrow  rocky  gorge  of  the  Garonne,  or 
further  on,  to  the  Pant  du  Boi,  on  the  frontier  of  Spain,  or  to 
St.  Bertrand  de  Cominges,  renowned  for  its  ancient  Gothic 
church,  or  to  the  Cascade  des  Demoiselles,  on  the  Pique.  A 
sedan  chair,  with  two  strong-limbed  bearers,  passes  through 
the  street ;  it  contains  a  patient  whom  they  are  carrying  to 
the  baths ;  two  or  three  people  in  thick  cloaks,  and  hoods 
covering  their  heads  and  faces,  are  walking  in  the  other  di- 


38  MORNING     SIGHTS     AT     LUCHON. 

rection  ;  they  are  bathers  returning  to  their  lodgings.  People 
are  setting  out  upon  a  morning  walk  ;  a  lady  and  her  chil- 
dren are  trotting  by  on  donkeys,  with  women  for  donkey 
drivers  ;  they  are  going  to  the  Cascade  of  Montauban,  or  to 
that  of  Jaze,  or  to  the  terrace  called  La  Sauniere,  from  which 
you  look  down  upon  Luchon  and  its  green  and  shady  valley. 
If  they  are  more  adventurous,  perhaps  they  are  bent  upon 
climbing  to  the  summit  of  Superbagneres,  the  mountain  from 
the  base  of  which  flow  the  sulphurous  springs  that  supply  the 
baths.  A  group  of  priests,  in  their  black  robes  and  cocked 
hats,  are  passing  ;  the  priests  throng  to  Luchon,  and  love  to 
saunter  in  its  shady  alleys,  and  are  often  seen  in  the  caval- 
cades that  go  out  upon  excursions  among  the  mountains. 
There  go  two  Sisters  of  Mercy,  in  their  flowing  hoods  of 
white  muslin ;  they  are  on  a  visit  to  the  lodging-houses,  to 
ask  donations  for  the  hospital  of  Luchon.  Two  ragged, 
brown,  slender  men,  in  their  red  caps,  knee-breeches,  stock- 
ings without  feet,  and  hempen  sandals,  are  driving  their 
loaded  asses  through  the  street ;  they  are  peasants  from  one 
of  the  neighboring  Catalonian  villages.  Spanish  pedlars  in 
laced  jackets  and  small  clothes  of  brown  velvet,  are  moving 
about  the  streets,  taking  oflf  their  caps  to  almost  all  they 
meet,  and  offering  their  wares.  Others  of  them  have  piled 
their  glistening  foulards  from  Barcelona,  their  packages  of 
linen  and  their  silk  shawls  around  the  foot  of  one  of  the 
great  trees  in  the  street,  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  pas- 
sengers. 

When  the  shadow  of  the  mountain  beo^ns  to  fall  on  tlie 


ENGLISH     AT     THE     LAC    D'OO.  39 

well-kept  grounds  below  the  edge  of  the  forest  south  of  the 
bath-house,  which  is  at  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
a  crowd  of  visitors  in  little  groups  seat  themselves  in  chairs 
on  the  terrace  in  that  spot.  Walk  among  them  and  you  will 
hear  spoken  the  accented  dialect  of  Southern  France ;  you 
will  hear  French  ;  you  will  hear  Spanish,  but  no  English.  It 
is  not  quite  exact  to  say,  however,  as  my  English  acquaint- 
ance at  Geneva  said,  that  the  English  have  not  got  to  Lu- 
chon  yet.  At  the  Lac  d'Oo,  which  we  reached  at  the  begin- 
ning of  a  pelting  storm  of  rain  and  hail,  we  fell  in  with  a  party 
from  Liverpool,  of  whom  five  were  ladies,  who  came,  soused 
and  dripping,  into  the  cabin  among  the  rocks  where  we  were 
taking  our  luncheon.  They  were  "  doing  up  "  the  Pyrenees, 
I  think,  in  a  fortnight,  conscientiously  seeing  every  thing  set 
down  for  them  to  see  in  their  guide-books,  and  as  they  were 
provided  with  water  proof  cloaks,  they  defied  wind  and  weath- 
er. They  whipped  through  the  list  of  sights  in  a  space  of 
time  that  seemed  to  me  incredibly  short,  and  then  went  off 
to  Toulouse  in  the  night.  The  English  who  come  here  do 
not  stay  long,  but  look  at  what  is  remarkable  and  depart. 

Our  party  have  not  been  so  faithful  to  the  duty  of  sight- 
seeing, contenting  ourselves  with  a  selection  from  the  usual 
excursions.  One  of  these  we  made  to  the  Pic  de  VAnticade. 
It  is  a  green  mountain  summit  within  the  Spanish  dominions, 
grazed  by  cattle  under  the  care  of  Catalonian  herdsmen.  The 
roar  of  a  hundred  waterfalls  rose  at  once  to  our  ears  from 
the  valley  of  the  Garonne  below,  where  I  counted  eleven  vil- 
lages lying  east  of  us — Busost  and  Bila,  and — a  Catalan  wo- 


40  THE     MALADETTA. 

man,  who  had  followed  us  up  the  summit  to  beg,  gave  us 
their  names,  but  I  have  forgotten  the  rest.  Below  us  eagles 
were  wheeling  about  the  crags ;  and  to  the  south,  where  the 
Garonne  came  down  from  the  mountains,  vast  and  dense  for- 
ests reached  far  down  the  valley.  "  In  these  forests,"  said 
our  guide,  "  we  go  to  hunt  bears  in  winter.  Wolves  too,  are 
found  there,  and  where  the  rocks  are  steep,  the  isardj  our 
mountain  goat."  To  the  west  of  us  rose  the  mountains  of 
Aragon,  and,  half  seen  through  the  mists,  the  white  summit 
of  the  Maladetta.  Our  guide  gave  us  the  etymology  of  the 
name  in  this  legend : 

"  Our  Saviour,"  said  he,  "  was  passing  over  the  mountain, 
when  he  met  with  a  shepherd  and  his  dog.  The  dog  flew  at 
our  Saviour  and  bit  him,  the  shepherd  making  no  effort  to 
prevent  it.  Since  that  time  a  curse  has  rested  on  the  moun- 
tain ;  it  is  covered  with  perpetual  snow,  and  the  shepherd 
and  his  dog  keep  their  station  there  yet.  They  were  seen 
not  long  since,  but,  on  being  approached,  they  disappeared. 
You  understand  now  why  the  mountain  is  called  the  Mala- 
detta or  the  Accursed." 

When  the  autumnal  weather  begins  to  grow  chilly  at 
Luchon,  the  visitors  generally,  if  they  do  not  go  home,  migrate 
to  Bagn6res  de  Bigorre,  as  we  propose  to  do  to-morrow,  though 
the  temperature  is  still  soft  and  genial  here. 


BAGNERES     DE     BIGORRE.  41 


LETTEE    V. 

BIGORRE-PAU-BAYONNE-A  JOURNEY  TO  SPAIN-SAN   SEBASTIAN. 

San  Sebastian,  Province  of  Gurpuscoa,  Spain,  ^ 
September  28th,  1857.  \ 
Since  I  wrote  you  last,  I  have  made  a  short  sojourn  at 
Bagn^res  de  Bigorre  and  another  at  Pau,  to  say  nothing  of 
a  brief  stay  at  Bayonne.  Bagneres  de  Bigorre,  a  pleasant 
watering-place,  is  too  much  like  Bagneres  de  Luchon,  in 
most  that  is  characteristic,  to  need  a  very  particular  descrip- 
tion. Like  that  place,  it  lies  high,  in  a  cool  atmosphere. 
At  the  foot  of  a  long  hill  break  out,  I  think,  nearly  a  dozen 
warm  springs,  of  different  temperatures  and  different  degrees 
of  mineral  impregnation,  each  of  which  has  its  building  fitted 
up  with  baths,  and  each  of  which  asserts  its  specific  merits 
in  healing  certain  ailments,  so  that  whatever  be  your 
malady,  it  will  go  hard  but  you  will  find  some  practitioner 
of  medicine  to  recommend  one  or  the  other.  Broad  paths, 
embowered  with  trees,  some  of  them  planted  long  ago,  lead 
from  one  spring  to  the  other,  along  rivulet  or  hill  side. 
Here  you  meet  the  visitors  to  the  place,  whether  they  come 
for  the  waters  or  the  air,  idly  sauntering;  here  you  meet 
with   patients   carried   in  sedan  chairs,  or  resting   on   the 


42  HORACE     VERNET'S     ELIJAH. 

benches.  Sometimes  it  is  a  well-dressed  lady  from  Paris,  or 
one  of  the  provincial  towns  of  France,  in  a  bonnet  of  the 
newest  pattern,  and  sometimes  a  hourgeoise,  equally  well 
dressed,  with  no  bonnet  at  all.  Sometimes  it  is  a  man  in 
the  garb  of  the  laboring  class,  beside  whom  sits  or  walks  his 
plain  wife,  employed  on  her  knitting  ;  sometimes  it  is  a 
woman  with  her  distaff,  industriously  twirling  the  spindle  as 
she  threads  the  long  alleys.  Bigorre  is  a  town  of  lodging 
houses,  and  affords  ample  accommodations  for  all  these 
classes.  The  peasants  go  out  to  shoot  game  for  them  among 
the  mountains ;  the  fruits  of  the  south  of  France  are  brought 
to  them  from  the  plain  of  Tarbes,  and  peasant  girls  gather 
strawberries  for  them  all  summer  long,  going  higher  and 
higher  up  the  Pyrenees,  from  July  to  October.  For  their 
spiritual  wants  large  provision  is  made  ;  the  Catholics  have 
here  several  churches,  among  the  finest  of  which  is  that  of 
the  Carmelites,  newly  built,  and  close  to  their  new  convent, 
a  good  sample  of  the  Eomanesque  style.  I  cannot  think  it 
improved  by  the  fresco  behind  the  altar,  just  finished  from 
a  design  by  Horace  Vernet,  representing  Elijah  taken  up 
into  heaven.  Elijah  is  an  Arab,  with  a  peaked  beard,  and 
the  Bedouin  head-dress  bound  on  his  forehead  by  a  cord  ot 
camel's  hair.  Elisha  is  a  stout  friar  in  a  brown  gown, 
catching  at  the  mantle  which  falls  from  his  master,  and  an 
angel  in  a  blue  robe  and  white  wings,  hovering  above  the 
chariot  of  fire,  holds  the  reins  and  guides  the  horses.  The 
whole  conception  strikes  me  as  poor  and  commonplace.  The 
Protestants  have  also  their  temple,  where  a  French  clergy- 


PAU.  43 

man,  who  preaches  with  great  simplicity  and  earnestness, 
conducts  the  worship,  with  a  considerable  congregation, 
mostly  of  the  laboring  class. 

At  Pau,  where  we  were  delayed  a  few  days  by  the  indis- 
position of  one  of  our  party,  we  found  only  silence  and  slum- 
ber. Of  the  English  who  throng  it  in  winter,  on  account  of 
the  softness  of  its  climate  at  that  season,  those  alone  re- 
mained who  were  lying  in  its  cemetery.  Those  who,  about 
this  time,  are  on  their  way  home  from  St.  Sauveur,  or  Luz, 
or  Cauterets,  or  some  other  of  their  famous  watering-places 
in  the  Pyrenees,  stop  now  and  then  just  to  look  at  the  castle 
of  Henry  the  Fourth  and  the  park,  and  then  go  on.  I  saw 
a  "  list  of  visitors "  advertised  on  an  English  sign,  and  ap- 
plied to  see  it.  "  No,"  I  was  told,  "  we  do  not  make  it  out 
till  winter."  I  was  looking  for  a  pair  of  cork  soles  for  one 
of  our  party.  "  They  are  not  arrived  yet,"  was  the  answer ; 
"  it  is  too  early  in  the  season."  In  short,  Pau  was  in  its 
summer  sleep ;  and  though  it  was  past  the  middle  of  Sep- 
tember, the  sun  blazed  with  a  heat  like  that  of  August,  and 
the  trees  in  the  handsome  Park,  which  overlooks  the  brawl- 
ing current  of  the  Gave,  yielding  to  a  few  months'  drought, 
were  fast  dropping  their  yellow  leaves.  At  length  the  long- 
wished-for  showers  fell,  and  we  set  out,  one  fine  bright  morn- 
ing, for  Bayonne — the  whole  country  steeped  and  fresh  with 
rain.  Our  carriage  bowled  over  one  of  those  broad,  smooth, 
well-kept  macadamized  roads  of  France,  with  massive  stone 
bridges,  and  parapets  wherever  the  ground  descends  on 
either   side  of  the   way,  which  impress  one  strongly  with 


44  BATONNE. 

an  idea  of  energy  and  precision  in  the  workings  of  the 
power  of  government.  The  r^in  soon  returned — we  trav- 
elled on  in  a  deluge — and  it  has  been  raining  ever  since. 
After  passing  through  a  fertile  country,  bordering  the  Gave 
of  Pau,  we  climbed  into  a  barren  region,  which  the  prickly 
gorse  and  the  rigid  heath  made  gay  with  their  unprofitable 
flowers,  and  then  entered  among  pine  forests,  scarred  with 
long  yellow  wounds  to  make  the  trees  yield  them  turpentine. 
These  gave  place  at  length  to  gardens  and  country  seats, 
and  almost  before  we  were  aware,  our  carriage  rolled  through 
the  gates  of  a  fortified  city,  and  we  were  in  Bayonne. 

I  was  surprised  at  the  green  and  fresh  appearance  of  the 
fields  around  Bayonne,  after  so  long  a  drought.  The  neigh- 
borhood of  the  mountains  on  the  one  side,  and  of  the  sea  on 
the  other,  perhaps  so  temper  the  air  as  to  give  the  country 
this  verdurous  aspect,  while  so  much  of  the  south  of  France 
at  this  season  is  of  the  color  of  ashes.  Bayonne  is  a  half 
Spanish  town  ;  the  guests  in  its  hotels  are  in  a  considerable 
proportion  Spanish ;  it  maintains  an  active  regular  trade 
with  Spain,  to  say  nothing  of  what  is  done  by  the  smugglers, 
who  in  the  passes  of  the  Pyrenees  set  the  agents  of  the  gov- 
ernment at  defiance ;  its  shops  have,  many  of  them,  Spanish 
signs,  and  it  is  the  point  from  which  diligences  set  out  to  all 
parts  of  Spain.  Bayonne  lies  on  two  rivers  which  here  meet 
on  their  journey  to  the  ocean,  a  league  from  their  mouth, 
and  far  enough  inland  to  deprive  the  sea  winds  of  their 
bleakness  in  winter.  Beyond  its  walls  a  public  promenade 
shaded  with  noble  trees  surrounds  nearly  the  whole  city. 


A     SIGHT     OF     THE     ATLANTIC.  45 

We  found  quarters  at  the  Hotel  du  Commerce^  where  we 
went  up  to  our  rooms  by  dirty  staircases,  and  where  half  a 
dozen  serving  maids,  all  rather  tall,  very  thin,  very  sharp- 
featured,  and  most  of  them  talkative,  attended  to  the  wants 
of  the  guests.  What  with  talking  and  waiting  on  the 
guests,  the  poor  creatures,  although  they  applied  themselves 
to  both  duties  with  all  their  might,  seemed  to  have  more 
work  on  their  hands  than  they  were  able  to  perform,  and  the 
comfort  and  convenience  of  the  guests  suffered  no  little  in 
consequence.  I  had  occasion  to  observe,  in  passing  through 
the  streets,  that  the  women  were  rather  taller,  besides  being 
considerably  thinner  and  sharper  featured  than  those  I  had 
seen  in  the  more  eastern  departments. 

We  took  places  the  other  morning  in  the  diligence  that 
travels  between  Bayonne  and  San  Sebastian,  and  passing 
a  long  alley  of  trees,  and  leaving  behind  the  belt  of 
handsome  country  seats  by  which  Bayonne  is  environed,  we 
ascended  a  height  from  which  we  saw  the  Atlantic  ocean 
spread  before  us.  In  green  and  purple  it  lay,  its  distant 
verge  blended  and  lost  in  the  mists  of  the  horizon.  I  can- 
not describe  the  feeling  awakened  within  me  as  I  gazed  on 
that  great  waste  of  waters  which  in  one  of  its  inlets  steeped 
the  walls  of  my  own  garden,  and  to  the  murmur  of  which  on 
a  distant  shore,  those  I  loved  were  doubtless  at  that  moment 
slumbering.  From  time  to  time,  as  we  went  on,  we  de- 
scended out  of  sight  of  the  sea,  and  rose  again  to  see  it 
flinging  its  white  breakers  against  the  land.  The  peaks  of 
the  Pyrenees  were  all  the  while  in  full  view,  and  we  were 


46  THE     BASQFE     RACE. 

approaching  the  region  where  their  western  buttresses  pre- 
sent an  eternal  barrier  against  the  assaults  of  the  ocean, 
which  to  the  north  of  them  have  hollowed  out  the  Gulf  of 
Gascony. 

The  scenery  to  the  south  of  Bayonne  presented  the  same 
fresh  and  verdant  appearance  as  that  in  its  immediate  neigh- 
borhood to  the  east,  but  the  houses  had  a  Swiss  look,  with 
their  overhanging  eaves,  supported  by  the  projecting  rafters, 
and  here  and  there  a  balcony  on  the  gable  ends,  which  were 
striped  with  upright  wooden  posts,  imbedded  in  the  stucco, 
and  painted  red.  The  rest  of  the  exterior  was  neatly  white- 
washed, and  the  windows  were  hung  with  shutters,  painted 
red  or  green.  This  is  the  fashion  of  Basque  architecture,  for 
we  were  now  among  the  Basque  race,  though  yet  several 
miles  from  the  Spanish  frontier.  The  road  was  full  of  peas- 
ant men  and  women,  coming  and  going ;  the  men  in  flat 
blue  caps,  short  jackets,  and  wooden  shoes,  many  of  the 
younger  wearing  scarlet  sashes ;  and  the  women  for  the  most 
part  barefoot,  their  heads  bound  with  gay  cotton  kerchiefs, 
and  their  petticoats  tucked  up  for  the  convenience  of  walk- 
ing in  the  wet  roads.  Of  both  sexes  a  large  proportion  had 
the  look  of  premature  old  age ;  yet  among  the  older  men  I 
saw  many  of  a  rather  striking  appearance,  with  their  high 
Koman  noses,  and  gray  hair  flowing  down  upon  their  shoul- 
ders. It  was  the  women  who  had  the  prerogative  of  carry- 
ing all  the  burdens,  some  of  them  bearing  large  jars,  and  the 
others  enormous  broad  baskets  poised  on  their  heads. 

Through  village  after  village  we  went,  till  we  came  to 


ENTRANCE     INTO     SPAIN.      IRUN.  47 

where  the  little  river  Bidassoa,  flowing  through  a  green  val- 
ley, parts  the  sovereignties  of  France  and  Spain.  At  Beho- 
bie,  the  frontier  village  of  the  empire,  a  French  oflficial  in 
red  mustaches  looked  at  our  passports  and  allowed  us  to  go 
upon  the  bridge ;  at  the  other  end  of  the  bridge,  a  Spanish 
ofliicial,  with  dense  coal-black  eyebrows,  looked  at  them  also, 
and  signified  to  us  that  we  were  at  liberty  to  set  foot  upon 
the  soil  beyond.  We  were  now  in  Spain  ;  yet  the  aspect  of 
the  dwellings  was  exactly  the  same  as  in  the  region  we  had 
just  left,  and  the  costume  of  the  peasantry  unaltered,  except 
that  the  scarlet  sash  was  more  frequently  seen,  the  wooden 
shoes  were  exchanged  for  hempen  slippers  or  sandals,  and 
the  women  wore  their  thick,  long  hair  gathered  into  a  single 
braid,  which  sometimes  descended  nearly  to  their  feet. 

A  short  drive  brought  us  to  the  main  street  of  Irun,  the 
first  Spanish  town — a  steep,  well-paved  street,  between  tall 
houses — tall  for  so  small  a  place — with  balcony  above  bal- 
cony, from  which  women  were  looking  down  upon  us  and 
the  crowd  about  us.  The  clean  street  and  the  well-built 
houses  gave  us  a  favorable  idea  of  the  country  on  which  we 
had  entered.  We  stopped  at  Irun  to  pay  a  tax  of  two  pese- 
tas on  each  foreign  passport,  and  to  open  our  trunks  for  the 
inspection  of  the  custom-house  officers,  who  seemed  disposed 
to  give  us  as  little  trouble  as  they  could.  Before  we  reached 
the  frontier,  our  conductor  had  made  his  preparations  for 
passing  free  of  duty  a  few  goods  which  he  had  brought  with 
him.  He  first  stuffed  his  garments,  under  his  blouse,  with  a 
e    variety  of  merchandise,  among  which  was  a  pair  of  patent 


48  THE     PEOPLE. 

leather  half-boots  with  elastic  ancles.  "  Here,"  said  he  to 
the  postilion,  handing  him  a  heavy  piece  of  worsted  goods, 
"  button  this  under  your  waistcoat."  The  man  complied 
without  a  word,  and  seemed  only  a  very  little  the  more  cor- 
pulent for  this  addition  to  his  bulk.  "Madam,"  said  the 
conductor  again,  addressing  himself  to  a  female  passenger, 
and  taking  a  new  lady's  cloak  from  a  pasteboard  box,  "will 
you  do  me  the  favor  to  let  this  hang  on  your  arm  for  the  rest 
of  the  journey  ?  "  The  lady  consented  ;  the  custom-house 
officers  found  nothing  chargeable  with  duty,  and  our  trunks 
being  replaced  on  the  diligence,  away  we  rolled  towards  San 
Sebastian. 

While  waiting  at  Irun,  I  had  time  to  look  at  the  people 
about  me,  for  it  was  a  holiday,  and  the  peasantry  from  the 
neighboring  country  were  in  the  streets,  mingled  with  the  in- 
habitants of  the  town.  They  had  a  hardy  look ;  we  should 
call  them  in  America  rather  short ;  but  their  frames  w^ere 
well  knit,  with  broad  shoulders,  a  healthy  complexion,  and  a 
not  unpleasing  physiognomy ;  the  women  seemed  of  scarcely 
less  vigorous  make  than  the  men.  This  was  the  pure  Basque 
race,  the  posterity  of  the  ancient  Cantabrians,  who  had  kept 
the  mountain  region  to  themselves  from  the  earliest  period 
known  to  history,  preserving  their  old  impracticable  lan- 
guage, and  many  of  their  primitive  customs.  I  could  not 
help  looking  for  something  striking,  characteristic,  and  pecu- 
liar in  a  branch  of  the  human  family  which  had  so  long  kept 
itself  distinct  from  the  others,  but  I  did  not  see  it ;  they 
seemed  cast  in  the  common  njould  of  our  species.     But  as 


PASSAGES.  4t9 

we  went  on,  I  saw  other  indications  that  we  had  passed  out 
of  one  country  into  another — narrower  roads,  unprotected  hy 
parapets  where  they  led  along  a  hill-side  ;  hedges  un- 
trimmed,  lands  less  sedulously  cultivated ;  fields  lying  waste 
and  red  with  withered  fern,  and  fruit-trees  less  carefully 
tended.  On  the  French  side  of  the  Bidassoa  the  apple  or- 
chards looked  fresh  and  flourishing ;  here  they  were  shaggy 
with  moss  and  nearly  bare  of  leaves,  bearing  instead,  heavy 
bunches  of  misletoe,  which  had  fastened  on  the  branches  and 
were  now  in  bloom.  A  considerable  part  of  the  tilth  was 
Indian  corn,  but  neither  here  nor  in  any  part  of  the  south  of 
France  were  the  harvests  of  this  grain  such  as  an  American 
farmer  would  be  proud  of.  The  stalks  were  small,  and  each 
of  them  produced  but  a  single  short  and  light  ear. 

Between  Irun  and  San  Sebastian  we  found  ourselves  on 
the  verge  of  what  seemed  a  lake  among  the  mountains. 
"  The  port  of  Passages !  "  said  a  fellow-traveller,  pointing  to- 
wards it.  I  looked  and  saw  where  a  chasm  opened  between 
dark  and  jagged  rocks  to  the  Atlantic  ocean — a  breach  in 
the  mountain  w^all  of  the  Pyrenees,  through  which  the  tides 
flow  and  sleep  in  this  quiet  basin.  The  passage  through 
which  they  enter  is  overlooked  by  castles  which  have  nothing 
to  guard.  Three  vessels  only  were  lying  where  a  whole  navy 
might  ride  in  safety  from  the  storms  ;  they  were  moored  be- 
side a  poor-looking  little  town.  "  It  is  a  noble  port,"  said 
my  fellow-traveller,  '^  but  neglected,  as  every  thing  else  is  in 
Spain."  The  river  of  Eenteria  runs  into  it  and  forms  shal- 
lows with  the  deposites  it  brings  down  from  the  highlands. 
3 


50  A     GASCON     COACHMAN. 

At  Irun  we  had  taken  our  fourth  postilion  after  leaving 
Bayonne,  a  meagre,  crooked  man,  with  sharp  features,  shriv- 
elled cheeks,  a  hooked  nose,  and  a  Httle  projecting  knob  of 
an  under  lip ;  not  to  forget  a  hollow  scar  on  the  right  tem- 
ple. He  held  voluble  dialogues  with  the  conductor,  in  which 
I  distinguished  some  words  identical  with  the  Spanish,  but 
of  the  rest  I  could  make  nothing.  "  What  are  they  talk- 
ing VI  asked  of  my  next  neighbor.  "  It  is  the  dialect  of 
Gascony,"  he  answered ;  "  the  postilion  is  from  Bayonne." 
But  the  postilion's  eloquence  was  not  confined  to  one  lan- 
guage. He  was  somewhat  of  a  wag,  and  gave  us  an  imita- 
tion of  the  petulant  tones  of  French  declamation,  and  then, 
changing  to  a  grave  and  quiet  manner,  dealt  out  a  few  prov- 
erbs and  pithy  sayings  in  Castilian.  He  had,  besides,  a 
joke  in  Basque  for  almost  every  young  female  we  passed 
with  a  basket  on  her  head.  As  we  were  approaching, 
through  a  narrow,  fertile  valley,  the  peninsula  on  which  San 
Sebastian  is  built,  a  troop  of  boys  greeted  us  from  a  little 
distance  with  shouts,  and  the  smallest  of  them  all,  standing 
in  the  middle  of  the  road,  and  seemingly  calculating  the 
course  of  our  vehicle,  placed  a  four-cornered  stone  exactly  in 
the  path  of  our  left  wheels,  and  then  leaped  aside  to  see  the 
jolt  it  would  give  us.  Our  fluent  Gascon  instantly  turned 
his  horses  a  little  to  the  right,  and  discharged  at  the  ofiender 
a  crack  of  his  whip,  which  made  him  start,  and  a  volley  of 
loud  words,  which,  for  aught  I  know,  might  have  been  the 
purest  and  most  classical  Basque  ever  spoken. 

Our  vehicle  crossed  a  bridge  over  a  shallow  arm  of  the 


ARRIVAL     AT     SAN     SEBASTIAN.  />1 

sea,  and  entering  the  peninsula,  passed  through  an  avenue 
of  poplars,  part  of  the  Alameda  of  San  Sebastian,  near  which 
stands  a  wooden  amphitheatre  erected  not  long  since  for  bull- 
fights, and  went  slowly  through  the  gates  of  the  city,  which 
is  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  strong  walls,  except  on  the 
west,  where  it  stands  against  the  steeps  of  Mount  Orgullo,  a 
conical  rock,  rising  four  hundred  feet  from  the  sea  at  its 
base,  crowned  with  a  castle,  and  bristling  with  other  fortifi- 
cations. Our  baggage  had  to  undergo  another  inspection, 
and  then  we  were  allowed  to  take  it  to  the  Hotel  Lafitte,  in 
the  street  of  San  Geronimo,  where  we  climed  up  a  gloomy 
staircase  to  dirty  chambers.  Our  French  host  apologized  for 
the  dirt,  which  was  no  fault  of  his,  he  said,  for  he  had  no 
wife,  and  only  Spanish  domestics ;  but  he  would  endeavor  to 
make  amends  for  the  dirt  by  the  excellence  of  the  dinners ; 
and  in  this,  as  his  profession  was  that  of  cook,  I  must  admit 
that  he  kept  his  word. 


n  SAN     SEBASTIAN. 


LETTEE  VI. 


SAN    SEBASTIAN. 


San  Sebastian,  Spain,  October  5,  ISSY. 
It  was  a  matter  of  course,  that  in  lodgings  so  neglected 
by  the  housekeeper  as  those  I  described  in  my  last,  we  should 
find  the  fleas  uncomfortably  numerous.  The  mosquitoes  did 
their  part  to  keep  us  awake,  but  a  walk  the  next  day  on  the 
rocky  mount  at  the  foot  of  which  San  Sebastian  is  built, 
made  amends  for  the  annoyances  of  the  night.  The  west  wind 
had  been  blowing  with  some  strength  for  several  days ;  and 
the  agitated  ocean  was  rolling  its  mighty  breakers  on  one  side 
of  us  into  the  bay  of  Concha,  and  on  the  other  up  the  river 
Urumea,  and  in  front  of  us  dashing  them  against  the  base 
of  the  rocks  on  which  we  stood.  The  two  sublimes t  features 
of  nature  are  the  sea  and  the  mountains ;  and  it  is  not  often 
that  in  any  part  of  the  world  you  see  them  in  their  grandeur 
side  by  side.  Here,  at  San  Sebastian,  you  have  the  Pyrenees 
looking  down  upon  the  Atlantic.  To  the  northwest  of  the 
city,  the  sea  flings  its  spray  against  the  dark  rocks  of  Mount 
Ulia,  to  the  southwest  it  beats  against  the  steeps  of  Mount 
Frio,  crowned  with  lighthouses,  and  beyond,  in  the  same  di- 
rection, a  lofty  promontory  stretches,  like  a  sentinel  of  that 


NOISES     OF     SAN     SEBASTIAN.  53 

mountain  range,  far  into  the  great  deep.  As  we  looked  in- 
land from  the  height  we  stood,  we  had  before  us  an  amphithe- 
atre of  mountains,  with  peaked  and  wavy  summits,  embosom- 
ing the  country  about  San  Sebastian ;  at  our  feet  lay  the 
little  city  with  its  little  artificial  port,  made  by  massive 
seawalls,  and  containing  its  little  commercial  marine,  and 
beyond  the  port,  where  the  billows  rolled  in  upon  the  sands, 
we  saw  a  row  of  bathing  tents,  near  which  ladies  were  taking 
their  morning  bath,  and  at  some  distance  were  men  on  horse- 
back, urging  their  animals  into  the  surf. 

From  this  place,  resounding  only  with  the  roar  of  the 
ocean,  we  returned  to  streets  as  noisy  with  the  voices  and 
occupations  of  men.  I  think  San  Sebastian  the  noisiest 
place  I  was  ever  in,  and  that  with  scarcely  any  help  from 
the  rattling  of  carriages  or  the  tramp  of  horses'  feet.  I  seem 
to  be  perpetually  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  of  children,  just 
let  loose  from  school.  The  streets  resound  from  early  morn- 
ing to  eight  o'clock  at  night  with  all  manner  of  childish  and 
infantile  cries ;  they  are  calling  to  each  other  in  their  shrill- 
est accents;  they  are  shouting,  crying,  singing,  blowing 
penny  whistles,  clattering  castanets.  Then  you  hear  artisans 
of  almost  every  trade,  engaged  in  their  work  — ^blacksmiths 
striking  their  anvils,  tinkers  mending  brass-kettles,  cobblers 
hammering  their  lasts ;  you  hear  the  screech  of  the  file,  the 
grating  of  the  saw,  and  the  click  of  the  stone-cutter's  chis- 
el. Parrots  are  screaming  to  each  other  across  the  streets ; 
and  oxen  are  dragging  loaded  carts,  running  on  plank  wheels 
without  spokes,  which  creak  lamentably  as  they  go.     Besides 


54  COMPACTNESS     OF     THE     TOWN. 

all  this,  there  is  a  most  extraordinary  yelping  of  dogs  at  San 
Sebastian.  Once  in  ten  minutes  a  dog  is  flogged,  or  some- 
body treads  on  his  tail  or  toes,  and  he  makes  the  whole  town 
ring  with  his  complaints. 

"Let  me  show  you  San  Sebastian,"  said  our  host,  soon 
after  we  had  returned  from  our  walk.  He  took  us  to  a  bal- 
cony, projecting  from  one  of  the  windows.  "  There,"  said 
he,  "  on  one  side,  at  three  or  four  rods  distance,  you  see  the 
city  wall.  In  the  opposite  direction,  the  street  extends  a  few 
rods  further,  to  that  gate,  through  which  you  pass  to  the  port. 
That  is  the  length  of  San  Sebastian."  Our  host  then  con- 
ducted us  to  a  balcony  on  the  cross  street.  "  Here,"  said  he, 
"  a  few  doors  to  the  right,  the  street  ends  at  the  rock  upon 
which  the  citadel  is  built ;  look  to  the  left,  and  you  see  where 
the  same  street  terminates  at  the  city  wall.  That  is  the  breadth 
of  San  Sebastian.  You  have  now  seen  the  city ;  it  is  but  a 
village,  and  would  be  nothing  without  its  citadel."  I  was 
obliged  to  agree  with  Monsieur  Lafitte  as  to  the  extent  of 
the  city ;  which,  however,  within  the  narrow  circuit  of  its  walls, 
is  compactly  built,  and  can  be  made  no  larger ;  yet  in  this 
space  are  crowded  ten  thousand  persons.  The  streets  are 
straight,  crossing  each  other  at  right  angles,  and  rather  nar- 
row ;  the  buildings  are  four  stories  in  height,  including  the 
ground  floor  ;  and  each  story,  even  in  the  case  of  the  wealth- 
ier class,  is  occupied  by  a  separate  family  ;  and  as  the  win- 
dows are  open  all  day,  scarcely  a  baby  cries  in  San  Sebastian 
without  being  heard  all  over  the  city. 

In  one  place  I  found  silence  ;  it  was  Sunday ;  and  I  en- 


CHURCH     OF     SANTA     MARIA.  55 

tered  the  church  of  Santa  Maria,  erected  in  the  beginning  of 
the  last  century.  Without,  the  church  has  a  festive  aspect, 
like  that  of  a  theatre,  the  front  being  carved  into  scrolls  and 
escutcheons,  flourishes  and  garlands,  and  heads  of  cherubs 
projecting  from  among  foliage.  Within,  the  massive  pillars, 
faced  on  each  of  their  four  sides  with  Corinthian  pilasters, 
spread  from  the  richly  ornamented  capitals  into  richly  orna- 
mented cornices,  and  from  these  sprout  into  ribbed  arches  of 
a  broad  span ;  the  whole  in  what  would  be  called  a  corrupt 
style  of  architecture,  but  which  has  a  certain  imposing  and 
magnificent  effect,  and  that  is  perhaps  the  best  test  of  archi- 
tectural merit.  The  church  was  crowded  with  worshippers, 
of  whom  four-fifths  were  women,  and  of  these  a  considerable 
proportion  were  of  the  more  opulent  class.  All  were  in  black 
veils,  the  national  costume ;  not  a  bonnet  was  to  be  seen ; 
all  were  on  their  knees,  with  their  faces  turned  towards  the 
altar.  I  observed  among  them  many  fine  countenances,  and 
was  struck  with  the  appearance  they  showed  of  being  pro- 
foundly absorbed  in  the  oflSces  of  devotion.  All  were  mo- 
tionless, save  the  priest  at  the  richly  ornamented  altar,  with 
his  bows  and  genuflections  ;  all  was  silence,  save  the  prayer 
he  murmured,  and  the  tinkling  of  the  little  bell,  which  an- 
nounced some  peculiar  part  of  the  ceremonies.  The  thick 
walls  of  the  building  excluded  all  sounds  from  the  streets, 
and  on  the  platform  before  it  all  games  are  rigorously  for- 
bidden. 

I  came  out  of  the  church,  and  entering  the  street  which 
led  to  my  hotel,  found  myself,  at  once,  in  a  perfect  hubbub  of 


56  SUNDAY     GAYETIES. 

noises.  Pianos  were  jangling  in  the  houses  ;  servant  girls 
were  screaming  to  each  other  in  Basque,  and  uttering  shouts 
of  laughter ;  the  chorus  of  childish  voices  was  shriller  than 
ever  ;  the  very  parrots  seemed  to  utter  their  cries  with  more 
energy,  as  if  in  honor  of  the  holiday ;  it  appeared  to  me 
that  of  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  city  not  one  was  silent. 
Close  to  our  hotel,  and  within  sight  of  its  windows,  lies  the 
great  Plaza  of  the  to^vn,  and  this  was  full  of  people,  notwith- 
standing an  occasional  thin  shower  of  drizzling  rain.  Here 
children  of  different  ages  were  playing  their  noisy  games ; 
some  were  skipping  their  ropes,  some  dancing  in  a  ring  and 
singing,  some  dancing  by  themselves  and  snapping  their  cas- 
tanets. Apart  from  these,  some  young  people  were  dancing 
the  fandango  the  young  men  in  flat  scarlet  caps,  scarlet  sashes, 
and  hempen  sandals  tied  with  scarlet  galoon.  The  tumult 
of  merriment  grew  more  riotous  about  twilight.  A  flute  was 
played  at  one  of  the  corners  of  the  streets,  and  a  band  of 
young  girls  capered  up  and  down  to  the  music,  with  shouts 
of  laughter.  About  nine  o'clock  all  was  comparatively  quiet, 
and  soon  after  that  hour  the  watchman  of  the  city  began  to 
utter  his  cries ;  for  it  would  be  inconsistent  with  the  genius 
of  the  place  to  leave  the  night  to  its  natural  silence.  At 
every  stroke  of  the  hour  and  of  each  intermediate  half  hour, 
he  proclaimed  the  time  of  night  in  a  deep,  melancholy  tone, 
as  if  lamenting  its  departure.  "Zos  dos  dados  ;"  ''Has  dos 
y  media  dadas;''^  "las  tres  dadas,^^  &c.,  &c.,  were  repeated 
again  and  again  as  he  paced  the  street,  in  a  voice  which  grew 
less  and  less  distinct,  until  it  was  lost  in  turning  some  dis- 


I 


THE     ALAMEDA.  51 


tant  corner.  This  went  on  till  daybreak,  when  other  sounds 
began  to  be  heard,  which  gradually  swelled  into  the  usual 
tumult  of  the  day. 

We  have  made  some  pleasant  acquaintances  here,  the 
wife  and  two  daughters  of  a  late  professor  in  a  literary  insti- 
tution, whose  kind  and  gracious  manners  make  good  the 
claim  of  courtesy  to  strangers,  which  is  one  of  the  boasts  of 
the  people  of  San  Sebastian.  The  young  ladies  took  us  one 
beautiful  evening  to  walk  on  the  Alameda,  a  public  ground 
beyond  the  city  gates,  planted  with  poplars,  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Urumea,  where  the  waves  of  the  sea  rush,  with  a  loud 
roar,  upon  the  sands.  It  was  just  about  sunset,  and  the 
green  between  the  city  walls  and  the  Alameda  was  covered 
with  groups  of  nurses  and  little  children,  who  had  come  out 
both  for  the  sake  of  the  air  and  the  music  of  a  military 
I  band,  which  played  occasionally,  while  a  small  body  of  sol- 
\  diery  were  going  through  their  exercises.  I  was  struck  with 
the  healthy  look  of  these  children.  Some  of  the  older  ones,  lit- 
tle bare-headed  creatures,  looked  like  dolls,  with  their  abundant 
jet  black  hair,  white  skins,  and  eyes  like  beads  of  black  glass. 
The  troops,  as  twilight  came  on,  took  up  their  march  for  the 
city,  the  band  playing  as  they  went,  and  the  nurses  placing 
their  young  charges  on  their  shoulders,  hurried  back  with 
them. 

.  We  saw  several  ladies  walking  unattended  in  the  Alameda. 
"  Is  that  the  custom  here  1 "  inquired  one  of  our  party.  "  By 
all  means,'*  was  the  answer.  "  Young  ladies  go  out  in 
the  evening,  unaccompanied,  without  scruple.  We  are  all 
3* 


58  ABSENCE     OF     BEGGABS. 

known  here,  and  that  protects  us  ;  we  are  as  safe  as  in  our 
parlors.  Even  if  we  were  not  known,  we  have  confidence 
in  our  people.  The  city  gates  are  never  shut  even  at  night, 
nor  are  our  doors  fastened  during  the  day  time,  and  it  is  not 
for  fear  of  theft  that  they  are  locked  at  night.  Thefts  here 
are  very  rare,  and  nohody  thinks  it  necessary  to  he  on  his 
guard  against  them." 

I  was  glad  to  hear  so  good  an  account  of  the  morals  of 
the  place  in  one  very  important  respect,  and  it  seemed  to  be 
confirmed  by  what  I  saw  at  our  hotel.  The  doors  of  our 
rooms  had  no  fastening,  and  seemed  never  to  have  had  any. 
On  speaking  of  this  to  our  host,  he  assured  us  that  a  lock  was 
quite  unnecessary,  as  nothing  was  ever  stolen.  While  I  am 
writing  this  letter,  he  has  surprised  me  by  assuring  me  that 
he  never  even  locks  his  outer  door  at  night. 

Of  one  nuisance,  from  which  I  had  found  no  other  part 
of  the  continent  wholly  free,  I  had  seen  nothing  here ;  there 
are  no  beggars.  In  France  you  will  often  see,  at  the  en- 
trance of  a  village,  a  post,  bearing  a  large  wooden  tablet, 
with  an  inscription  purporting  that  in  those  precincts  beg- 
ging is  strictly  forbidden,  and  under  it  a  fine,  ragged  fellow 
will  hold  out  his  hand  and  whimper  for  charity.  Here  the 
same  prohibition  exists  and  is  respected.  "  What  do  you  do 
with  your  beggars  V*  1  inquired.  "  Follow  us,'*  said  our 
young  friends,  "  and  we  will  show  you."  We  crossed  the 
Urumea  by  the  bridge  of  Santa  Catalina,  and  passing 
through  another  alley  of  poplars,  entered  a  large  building, 
erected  in  1840,  on  the  site  of  a  former  Franciscan  convent. 


THE     HOUSE     OF     MERCY.  69 

"  We  put  our  beggars  here,"  said  one  of  our  companions ; 
"  this  is  the  House  of  Mercy  for  the  district  of  San  Sebastian." 
We  entered  a  large  court  in  the  centre  of  the  building,  with 
trees  and  a  fountain  in  the  midst,  and  many  of  the  inmates 
of  the  place  sitting  or  moving  about — the  tasks  of  the  day 
being  finished.  At  the  entrance  was  a  chapel,  dimly  light- 
ed, from  which  issued  strains  uttered  by  the  children  of  the 
place,  chanting  a  part  of  their  evening  worship.  All  weaned 
children  abandoned  by  their  parents,  and  all  orphans,  are  re- 
ceived into  this  institution  ;  all  persons  in  the  district  found 
begging  are  brought  hither,  stripped  of  their  rags,  scoured, 
put  into  clean  clothing  and  set  to  work. 

As  we  returned,  we  could  not  help  speaking  of  the  soft- 
ness of  the  evening.  The  young  ladies  with  us,  and  those 
who  were  walking  in  the  Alameda,  had  on  only  light  summer 
dresses,  with  nothing  on  their  heads  save  the  thinnest  of 
black  veils,  fastened  to  the  hair  behind,  and  falling  down  on 
the  shoulders.  "We  have  no  extremes  of  heat  and  cold," 
they  said;  "the  heat  of  the  summer  is  not  intense,  the 
autumn  and  spring  are  delightful,  and  the  winter  rather 
rainy  than  frosty." 

At  this  season  we  find  the  weather  remarkably  agree- 
able ;  the  heats  of  noon  are  temperate,  and  the  evenings  are 
like  the  blandest  summer  evenings  in  our  own  climate. 
During  the  week  which  we  have  passed  at  San  Sebastian,  we 
have  not  felt  the  slightest  autumnal  harshness  in  the  air, 
even  at  night.  The  leaves  are  falling  from  the  trees,  not 
because  the  frost  has  nipped  them,  but  because  they  are  old. 


1 


60  THE     CLIMATE     OP     SAN     SEBASTIAN. 

*'  You  are  going  to  Vitoria  and  Burgos,"  said  my  banker,  the 
other  day.  "You  are  going  to  a  country  where  the  weather 
is  very  diflerent  from  what  it  is  here,  where  it  frequently 
changes  from  warm  to  cold,  and  where  the  winters  are  ex- 
tremely severe,  as  they  are  with  you  in  New  York."  The 
people  of  San  Sebastian  claim  that  their  city  is  exempt  from 
epidemic  or  local  fevers,  from  intermittent  and  from  fevers,  both 
of  the  bilious  and  typhus  type.  In  summer  the  people  of  Mad- 
rid resort  to  it,  for  the  refreshment  of  its  air  and  for  sea-bafhing ; 
and  the  Plaza  is  a  gay  scene  with  these  visitors  promenading 
at  nightfall,  and  afterwards.  At  present  you  see  bare-head- 
ed senoras  walking  in  the  Plaza  till  near  ten  o'clock,  or  sit- 
ting under  the  arches  which  surround  it,  but  they  are  the 
ladies  of  the  city. 

I  went  again  the  next  morning,  with  one  of  our  party,  to 
the  House  of  Mercy,  and  was  shown  over  it  by  one  of  the 
Sisters  of  Charity  of  the  order  of  San  Vincente  de  Pablo, 
who  have  the  care  of  it,  and  who  are  fifteen  in  number.  She 
was  a  plump,  healthy-looking  person,  with  an  agreeable 
smile,  a  full,  black  eye,  in  which  lurked  an  arch  expression, 
and  thick  lips  shaded  with  jetty  down.  She  carried  a  bunch 
of  keys,  and  opened  one  room  after  another  for  our  inspec- 
tion. "  Here,"  said  she,  "  is  one  of  the  sleeping-rooms  of 
the  women."  It  was  a  long  apartment,  on  the  second  floor, 
with  thirty  beds  ranged  in  rows  on  each  side ;  a  bed  for  each 
person ;  clean  beds,  with  coarse  linen  sheets,  woollen  mat- 
tresses and  pillows,  resting  on  enormous  straw  beds  under- 
neath ;    the  room  was  clean  and   amply  ventilated.      She 


OCCUPATIONS     OF     THE     PAUPERS.  61 

showed  us  in  succession  the  other  sleeping-rooms  of  the  fe- 
males, those  of  the  men,  and  those  of  the  children,  all  of 
them  equally  clean  and  comfortable,  and  in  airy  rooms.  We 
descended  to  the  ground  floor.  "  Here,"  said  she,  "  is  the 
workshop  of  the  men."  A  dozen  looms  were  clashing  in  the 
room  she  showed  us,  and  at  each  a  man  was  driving  the 
shuttle.  In  one  corner  several  men  were  employed  in  mend- 
ing clothes ;  in  another  sat  men  mending  shoes  ;  before  the 
door  a  man  was  winding  linen  thread  upon  a  reel.  In  other 
parts  of  the  building  women  were  employed  in  spinning, 
after  the  manner  of  this  country,  twirling  the  spindle  in  the 
fingers ;  others  were  knitting,  others  sewing,  others  by  the 
side  of  a  huge  laver,  were  washing ;  others  in  a  kitchen  as 
clean  as  a  Dutch  kitchen,  were  busy  over  huge  caldrons,  in 
which  soup  was  preparing  for  the  inmates.  All  were  em- 
ployed, but  all  seemed  inclined  to  make  their  labor  as 
easy  as  possible.  There  was  none  of  that  alacrity  shown  in 
their  exertions  which  we  saw  in  the  pauper  colonies  of 
Holland,  where  a  system  of  proportional  compensations  is 
adopted. 

We  were  taken  to  the  school,  where  the  children  of  the 
institution  are  taught.  The  system  of  instruction  does  not 
go  very  far,  but  they  are  taught  to  read,  write,  and  com- 
pute ;  and  we  saw  some  respectable  specimens  of  penman- 
ship in  the  square  Spanish  style.  In  the  school  several 
young  girls  were  employed  in  embroidering,  and  some  neat 
samples  of  their  skill  in  this  art  were  shown  us.  The  medi- 
cine room  contained,  in  glass  jars  and  gallipots,  neatly  la- 


62  SUFPEBINGS     FROM     THIEST. 

belled  and  arranged,  drugs  enough  to  kill  twice  the  number  of 
the  inmates  of  the  House  of  Mercy  ;  but  we  were  gratified  to 
learn  that  not  much  use  was  made  of  them.  One  department 
of  the  institution  is  a  Hospital,  with  ample  wards  and  a  large 
number  of  beds,  most  of  which,  I  perceived,  were  unoccupied. 
Here  the  same  scrupulous  neatness  seemed  to  prevail  as  in 
the  other  rooms,  and  the  same  carefid  attention  to  ventila- 
tion. The  Hospital  is  divided  into  two  departments,  the 
medical  and  surgical ;  in  the  surgical  department  for  males 
there  was  no  patient — 'beggars  do  not  often  break  their 
bones — in  that  of  the  women  there  were  but  two  or  three. 

In  passing  through  the  various  compartments  of  the  in- 
stitution, we  were  taken  into  the  bread-room,  where  one  of 
the  Sisters  of  Charity  was  occupied  in  dividing  the  loaves 
into  rations.  There  was  a  finer  and  more  delicate  kind  of 
bread  for  the  patients  in  the  Hospital,  and  a  coarser  kind, 
yet  light  and  sweet,  for  the  healthy  inmates.  "  You  do  not 
let  your  people  suffer  from  hunger,"  said  I,  to  the  sister  who 
had  charge  of  this  room.  "  No,"  she  replied,  "  of  hunger 
they  never  complain ;  their  great  suffering  is  from  thirst ; 
they  get  enough  to  eat,  they  acknowledge,  but  they  do  not 
get  enough  to  drink."  The  history  of  the  Almshouse  of 
San  Sebastian  is,  in  this  respect,  I  suppose,  like  that  of  other 
almshouses,  and  people  qualify  themselves  for  admission  to 
it  by  the  same  practices. 

As  we  took  leave  of  our  smiling  and  cheerful  conduct- 
ress, a  venerable  lady  presented  herself,  who  held  the  place 
of  Lady  Superior  among  these  Sisters  of  Charity,  and  who 


THE     VALLEY     OF     LOYOLA.  eS 

was  on  a  visit  to  the  institution.  She  inquired  from  what 
part  of  the  world  we  came,  and  being  told  from  North 
America,  began  to  speak  of  her  acquaintances  in  Mexico. 
It  was  not  easy  to  make  her  comprehend  the  distance  of 
New  York  from  Mexico,  so  we  did  not  insist  much  on  that 
point.  As  we  had  seen  the  House  of  Mercy  in  San  Sebas- 
tian, she  told  us  we  must  see  that  of  Tolosa,  which  was,  if 
any  thing,  still  more  admirably  managed ;  and  if  we  were 
going  to  Madrid,  we  must  see  the  one  at  Madrid.  Finally, 
she  went  and  brought  another  distinguished  sister,  whom 
she  introduced  to  F.,  and  after  a  short  colloquy,  in  which 
the  recommendation  to  visit  the  House  of  Mercy  at  Tolosa, 
and  the  one  at  Madrid,  was  repeated,  they  both  embraced 
and  kissed  my  companion,  and  took  their  leave. 

For  myself,  I  wished  to  see  a  little  of  the  environs  of  the 
city,  in  the  way  in  which  they  could  be  seen  to  most  advan- 
tage, and  I  strayed  oflf  on  a  pedestrian  exercise  to  the  valley 
of  Loyola,  a  pretty  spot  on  the  river  Urumea.  An  excellent 
road  led  me  to  about  two  miles  from  the  city,  along  which 
Basque  women  with  huge  baskets  on  their  heads  were  pass- 
ing ;  the  younger  of  them  having  for  the  most  part  fine  fig- 
ures, and  some  of  them  pleasing  faces.  These  kept  up  a  live- 
ly dialogue  with  each  other  as  they  went,  and  made  the  val- 
ley ring  with  their  laughter.  To  my  greeting  of  buenos  diasy 
they  replied  with  the  still  more  idiomatic  greeting  of  agur. 
The  road  on  which  1  was  passing  at  length  degenerated  into 
a  bridle  road,  over  which,  however,  I  could  see  that  the  rude 
carts  of  the  coimtry  had  stumbled,  but  it  still  led  by  coun- 


64  VINEYARDS     ABANDONED. 

try  houses,  and  fields  of  Indian  corn  and  apple  orchards. 
Here  vineyards  once  flourished,  from  the  fruit  of  which  a 
poor  wine  called  chacoli  was  made,  and  none  of  any  other 
kind  was  allowed  to  be  brought  into  San  Sebastian  till  the 
chacoli  was  drunk  out.  The  repeal  of  this  prohibition,  I 
suppose,  led  to  the  abandonment  of  the  grape  culture,  and 
now  there  are  no  vineyards ;  yet  the  vine  has  taken  posses- 
sion of  the  soil,  and,  on  each  side  of  the  way,  twines  its  un- 
fruitful shoots  with  the  blackberry  bushes  and  hazels,  and  a 
sort  of  green  briar,  almost  as  prickly  as  that  of  our  own 
country. 


THE     HALL     OP     MATEENITY.  65 


LETTEE  VII. 

A    JOURNEY    FROM    SAN    SEBASTIAN    TO    VITORIA. 

YiTORiA,  Province  of  Alava,  Spaiu,  ^ 
October  8th,  1857.  \ 
It  was  an  oversigM  not  to  mention  in  my  last  that  the 
House  of  Mercy  at  San  Sebastian  owed  its  flourishing  con- 
dition to  private  beneficence.  Many  persons  have  given  it 
large  sums ;  among  others,  Don  Antonio  de  Zavaleta,  a 
native  of  the  city,  who,  having  emigrated  to  Havana  and 
become  rich,  bequeathed  to  it  in  1837  one  hundred  and 
twenty  thousand  dollars.  I  asked  the  Sister  of  Mercy  in  the 
thin  white  hood  and  blue  petticoat,  who  conducted  us  over 
the  place,  what  was  the  number  of  its  inmates.  "  "We  have 
in  the  whole,"  she  replied,  "about  four  hundred  persons. 
In  the  almshouse  there  are  a  hundred  and  four  men, 
about  ninety  women,  mostly  old,  and  ninety  boys  or  more. 
The  girls,  who  are  not  so  many  as  the  boys,  and  the  patients 
in  the  hospitals,  make  up  the  number."  There  is  a  depart- 
ment of  the  hospital  of  which  she  said  nothing,  and  which, 
of  course,  was  not  shown  us,  the  Sala  de  Maternidad,  or  Hall 
of  Maternity,  a  sort  of  Lying-in  Hospital,  a  refuge,  as  it  is 
called  in  a  Spanish  pamphlet  lying  before  me,  for  mujeres 


QQ  GRAVES     OF     BRITISH     OFFICERS. 

embarazadas,  in  which  the  strictest  secrecy  is  observed  as  to 
the  name  of  the  person  admitted,  and  the  place  whence 
she  comes,  these  being  known  only  to  the  chaplain.  Her 
only  designation  is  a  certain  number ;  so  that  the  news  of 
the  morning  in  this  department  of  the  Hospital  is  that  the 
doctor  has  been  called  to  Nmnber  Three,  and  that  Nmnber 
Seven  is  as  well  as  could  be  expected. 

Do  not  suppose,  however,  that  this  is  the  extent  of  what 
the  good  people  of  San  Sebastian  do  for  the  poor.  They 
have  their  charitable  associations  here,  as  well  as  with  us ; 
and  sixteen  ladies  are  the  agents  by  whom  the  contributions 
thus  gathered  are  distributed  among  those  who,  in  their 
opinion,  need  and  deserve  relief. 

All  the  English  who  come  to  San  Sebastian,  visit,  of 
course,  the  graves  of  the  British  officers  who  fell  in  the  siege 
of  the  place,  in  1813,  and  in  the  bloody  civil  war  twenty- 
three  years  later,  in  which  England  took  part.  They  lie 
almost  in  the  shadow  of  the  citadel,  on  a  part  of  Mount 
Orgollo,  which  looks  across  the  sea  towards  England,  among 
enormous  blocks  of  stone  scattered  about,  as  if  a  sudden 
convulsion  of  the  earth  had  broken  them  from  the  mother 
rock.  I  cannot  imagine  a  grander  place  of  sepulture  than 
these  craggy  steeps,  beside  the  ever-murmuring  ocean.  "We 
went  up  to  the  top  of  the  citadel,  which,  by  command  of  the 
government,  is  now  open  to  citizens  and  strangers  without 
distinction,  and  looked  out  upon  a  magnificent  panorama  of 
sea  and  mountain,  of  which  the  central  part,  to  the  landward, 
was  the  valley  of  Loyola,  where  it  is  said  the  founder  of  the 


HATS     OP     THE     PRIESTS.  67 

Society  of  Jesuits  was  born,  and  through  which  the  Urumea 
flows,  fringed  with  tamarisks. 

The  time  had  arrived  for  us  to  leave  San  Sebastian, 
and  on  the  5  th  of  October  we  took  leave  of  our  most  oblig- 
ing host,  the  only  fault  of  whose  hotel  was  the  want  of  a 
hostess,  and  set  out  for  Vitoria  in  a  carriage  hired  for  the 
purpose.  It  was  a  wet  morning,  but  of  this  we  had  warning 
the  evening  before ;  for  a  strong  wind  was  bringing  up  black 
clouds  from  the  west,  and  driving  the  billows  of  the  Canta- 
brian  ocean  into  the  bay  of  Concha,  with  such  fury  that,  but 
for  the  sea  wall  which  protects  the  narrow  isthmus  leading 
from  the  city,  it  seemed  as  if  they  would  force  their  way 
across  it  and  make  the  place  an  island.  I  had  been  to  the 
Alameda  as  the  sun  was  about  to  set,  and  returned  on  ac- 
count of  the  wind ;  but  I  met  a  throng  of  persons  going  out, 
among  whom  were  bare-headed  ladies,  with  their  veils 
of  black  tulle  fastened,  on  the  back  of  the  head,  to  their 
abundant  tresses,  and  falling  down  on  the  shoulders  ; 
but  the  figure  which  most  drew  my  attention  was  a  priest, 
holding  his  hat  before  him  on  his  breast.  The  hats  of  the 
priests  in  the  south  of  France  are  of  liberal  dimensions  ;  but 
here,  in  the  genial  atmosphere  of  Spain,  their  brims  expand 
to  a  magnificent  size.  As  the  least  breath  of  wind  would 
otherwise  blow  them  ofi^,  the  wearers  roll  up  the  brim  on  each 
side,  over  the  crown,  as  we  roll  up  a  map,  or  as  the  Span- 
iards roll  up  a  bit  of  paper  to  make  a  cigar.  In  this  way 
the  reverend  clergy  of  these  parts  contrive  to  carry  on  their 
heads  a  cylinder  of  felt  and  fur,  nearly  a  yard  long.     The 


68  CAUTION     TO     TRAVELLERS. 

priest  whom  I  met  had  found  it  impossible  to  keep  his  head 
covered  in  the  fury  of  the  wind,  but,  unwilling  to  lose  his 
walk  on  the  Alameda,  was  carrying  it  before  him  with  an 
air  of  meek  resolution,  quite  diverting.  Two  hours  later, 
a  thunder  shower  broke  over  the  city ;  and  as  a  thunder 
shower  here  does  not  clear  the  air,  as  with  us,  but  is  the 
beginning  of  rainy  weather,  the  next  morning  dawned  in 
rain.  ,  • 

I  must  say  to  those  who  travel  in  Spain,  that  if  they 
wish  to  avail  themselves  of  the  accommodation  of  the  dili- 
gences, in  their  journey  to  Madrid  from  the  towns  in  the 
north  of  the  kingdom,  they  should  endeavor  to  do  it  before 
the  first  of  October.  Until  that  time  there  are  local  dili- 
gences— that  is  to  say,  there  are  public  coaches  passing  be- 
tween San  Sebastian  and  Vitoria,  Vitoria  and  Burgos,  and 
so  on,  in  which  you  can  always  secure  seats  beforehand,  and 
set  out  at  a  convenient  hour.  After  the  first  of  October 
these  are  generally  withdrawn,  and  you  must  either  hire  a 
private  carriage,  or  take  your  chance  for  a  passage  in  the 
diligence  from  Bayonne,  which  may  arrive  crowded  with 
travellers,  and  perhaps  in  the  night.  We  lingered  at  San 
Sebastian  late  enough  to  miss  the  local  diligence,  and  were 
obliged  to  hire  a  vehicle  at  an  exorbitant  price. 

Our  course  was  up  a  narrow,  winding  valley,  watered  by 
the  Oria,  at  that  time  swollen  and  turbid  with  rain,  pouring 
down  a  torrent  almost  as  yellow  as  gamboge.  On  each  side 
were  fields  of  maize  ready  for  gathering,  among  which  were 
a  few  green  turnip  patches,  and  here  and   there  a  fresh 


TREATMENT     OF     TREES.  69 

grassy  meadow,  while  higher  up  on  the  hill-sides  was  a 
rougher  and  less  verdant  pasturage,  among  gorse  and  heath 
and  withered  ferns.  Scattered  over  these  wastes  were  chest- 
nut trees  loaded  with  fruit,  and  short,  stumpy  oaks,  the 
boughs  of  which  had  been  cut  away  for  fagots,  and  now 
sprouted  with  a  multitude  of  twigs.  The  Spaniards  do  not 
seem  to  care  for  trees,  except  when  planted  in  a  public  walk 
near  a  town.  I  have  scarcely  seen  one  allowed  to  shoot  up- 
ward, and  extend  its  boughs  laterally,  as  nature  would  have 
it ;  wherever  a  tree  grows  in  the  country,  it  is  made  to  yield 
fuel ;  they  poll  the  oak  and  reduce  it  to  an  ugly  bush  ;  they 
strip  the  branches  from  the  sides  of  the  elm,  and  make  it 
look  almost  like  a  Lombardy  poplar.  In  this  state  trees 
rather  deform  than  embellish  a  landscape. 

About  two  miles  from  San  Sebastian,  a  man  belonging 
to  the  laboring  class,  who  was  walking  towards  Tolosa  under 
a  blue  cotton  umbrella,  asked  permission  to  stand  on  the 
hinder  step  of  our  carriage,  which  was  granted.  He  was  a 
good  specimen  of  the  Basque  race ;  of  middle  stature,  but 
vigorous  make,  and  a  healthy  color  in  his  cheeks.  Over  a 
white  cotton  shirt  he  wore  a  knit  blue  one  of  woollen,  neatly 
tied  with  tasseled  cords ;  on  his  left  shoulder  he  carried  the 
brown  round  jacket  of  the  country,  which  clings  to  the 
shoulder  of  the  Basque  peasant  like  his  cap  to  his  head, 
whether  he  be  sitting  or  standing,  riding  or  walking,  or  even 
gesticulating.  The  man  spoke  but  little  Castilian,  but  was 
very  much  disposed  to  be  communicative.  He  gave  us  the 
names  of  the  places  through  which  we  passed,  and  was  quite 


^0  A    SHOWY     COUKTRY     HOUSE. 

inclined  to  talk  of  the  abundant  crops  of  the  season.  "  We 
have  plenty  of  maize  this  year,"  he  said,  "  and  a  large  crop 
of  beans.  The  apples  have  failed,  and  we  shall  make 
scarcely  any  cider,  but  then  there  are  so  many  chestnuts  ! " 
On  this  subject  he  was  almost  enthusiastic,  and  seemed  to 
imagine  that  nearly  every  question  we  put  to  him  had  some 
relation  to  the  chestnut  crop.  We  looked  about  us,  and 
saw  that  he  had  reason  to  be  as  eloquent  on  this  head  as  his 
scanty  vocabulary  would  allow,  for  the  chestnut  groves  on 
all  the  hills  were  heavy  with  fruit,  which,  whiter  than  the 
leaves,  spotted  and  bowed  the  branches.  Millions  of  bushels 
will  be  gathered  from  these  groves  ;  a  considerable  part  will 
form  the  food  of  the  peasantry,  and  the  rest  will  be  sold  in 
the  towns,  or  carried  abroad. 

The  Oria  is  one  of  the  most  considerable  manufacturing 
streams  of  Spain.  We  passed  several  large  buildings,  which 
our  Basque  friend  informed  us  were  woollen  mills ;  others 
we  perceived  to  be  forges,  in  which  the  abundant  ores  of 
these  mountains  are  smelted  and  wrought  into  bars.  There 
is  also  a  cotton  mill  here,  owned  by  the  brothers  Brunet,  of 
San  Sebastian.  A  little  beyond  the  village  of  Lasarte  we 
passed  a  handsome  building  of  this  kind  ;  and  very  near  it 
stood  the  most  showy  country  house  I  had  seen  in  Spain. 
In  this  region  scarce  any  thing  is  done  in  the  way  of  laying 
out  or  embellishing  grounds ;  the  art  of  landscape  gardening 
is  almost  unknown ;  but  here  was  an  example  of  it  which 
fairly  dazzled  our  eyes.  The  walls  of  the  house  were  of 
brilliant  white ;  the  windows  were  surrounded  with  a  bright 


A     MANUFACTURING     VILLAGE.  71 

blue  border,  edged  with  a  line  of  crimson ;  and  it  stood 
amidst  grounds  washed  by:  the  river,  elaborately  laid  out, 
and  carefully  tended,  traversed  by  gravel  walks,  winding 
among  fresh  grass-plots,  and  by  plantations  of  choice  shrubs, 
and  through  orchards  of  fruit  trees.  These  grounds  were 
enclosed  with  hedges,  as  neatly  trimmed  as  any  you  see  in 
England.  This  was  doubtless  the  dwelling  of  the  proprie- 
tor. I  looked  on  the  other  side  of  the  way,  and  there,  close 
to  the  road,  was  a  long,  shabby  building,  two  stories  in 
height,  with  many  doors,  at  one  of  the  upper  windows  of 
which  I  saw  a  thin,  brown  woman,  in  a  dress  of  the  color 
of  her  skin,  combing  her  hair.  Behind  the  buildiug  were 
no  gardens,  but,  instead,  the  space  was  occupied  by  heaps  of 
prickly  gorse,  which  had  been  cut  for  the  fuel  of  the  kitchens. 
These  were,  probably,  the  habitations  of  the  people  who 
wrought  in  the  mill. 

We  could  not  see  much  of  Tolosa,  which  we  reached 
after  a  journey  of  about  four  hours,  on  account  of  the  rain, 
and  we  had  been  told  at  San  Sebastian  that  there  was  noth- 
ing in  it  worth  seeing ;  but  there  is  an  ill-natured  rivalry 
between  the  two  cities.  We  were  set  down  at  the  parador 
of  Don  Antonio  Manuel  de  Sistiaga,  a  very  clean  inn,  where 
a  chatty  young  woman  waited  upon  us,  and  gave  us,  among 
other  dishes,  trout  fried  in  oil,  which  our  party  found  quite 
palatable,  and  a  plentiful  dessert  of  peaches,  pears,  and 
grapes.  Happening  to  mention  the  mosquitoes  at  San  Se- 
bastian, I  was  assured  that  there  were  none  at  Tolosa,  nor 
fleas  either,  except  in  houses  occupied  by  careless  people. 


72  NIGHT     TBAVELLING. 

Prom  Tolosa,  in  the  afternoon,  we  followed  the  same  pic- 
turesque, green  valley,  passing  by  iron  mills,  the  machinery 
of  which  was  moved  by  the  current  of  the  Oria,  until  we 
reached  the  little  village  of  Bensain,  where  a  yoke  of  oxen 
was  fastened  before  our  three  mules,  and  we  were  dragged 
up  into  a  wild  region,  among  mountain  summits  and  wastes 
overgrown  with  prickly  shrubs.  Here,  after  we  had  dis- 
missed our  oxen,  we  entered  Villareal,  a  poor  village  lying 
in  a  little  hollow,  where  we  met  the  first  beggars  we  had 
seen  in  Spain.  An  old  woman  rang  a  little  bell  at  one  of 
our  carriage  windows,  and  a  little  boy  whimpered  a  long 
prayer  for  alms,  in  Basque.  Not  far  from  this  place  we  took 
on  another  yoke  of  oxen,  and  slowly  climbed  a  lonely  moun- 
tain road,  full  of  short  turns,  while  the  darkness  of  the  night 
gathered  round  us,  and  drove  the  rain  violently  against 
our  carriage  windows.  Not  long  after  we  had  reached  the 
summit  a  light  appeared,  and  when  we  came  opposite  to  it 
our  coachman  stopped  his  mules,  alighted,  and  went  into  a 
little  building,  where  we  saw  at  the  windows  and  the  open 
door  several  men  in  a  military  uniform.  It  was  a  station  of 
the  Gwxrdia  Civil,  a  body  of  armed  men  by  whom  the  high- 
ways are  watched ;  presently  our  coachman  reappeared  with 
a  lighted  segar  in  his  mouth  and  a  flaming  military  coat  on 
his  back.  He  was  followed  by  a  man  in  the  same  uniform, 
carrying  a  carbine,  who  took  his  station  on  the  hinder  step 
of  our  carriage,  kindled  a  match,  took  a  good  look  at  our 
party  by  its  flame,  lighted  his  segar  by  it,  and  began  smok- 
ing away  quite  at  his  ease.     To  our  questions  he  returned 


VEKGARA.        A     CLEANLY     INN.  IS 

civil  and  copious  answers.  It  was  his  office,  lie  said,  some- 
times to  accompany  carriages  on  that  road,  but  his  presence 
with  us  that  night  was  altogether  accidental,  inasmuch  as  he 
happened  to  be  at  the  station,  and  wished  to  go  to  Vergara. 
There  had  been,  he  added,  no  robberies  thereabouts  for  some 
time  past — only  one,  in  fact,  within  the  year,  and  before 
that  none  for  a  long  time.  I  inferred,  from  the  strain  of  his 
talk,  that  he  wished  to  magnify  his  office ;  but  the  rest  of 
our  party  were  confident  that  it  was  his  regular  duty  to  at- 
tend carriages,  passing  up  and  down  the  mountain  in  the 
hours  of  darkness,  and  protect  them  from  robbers,  and  that 
he  was  with  us  for  that  special  purpose. 

We  now  rolled  down  the  mountain,  with  our  new  guard 
clinging  faithfully  to  the  back  step,  rattled  through  Anzuelo, 
with  its  great  houses  and  dark  streets,  and  entering  Ver- 
gara, stopped  at  the  Parador  de  las  Postas^  as  nice  a  place  as 
an  English  inn,  where  we  found  a  good-looking  landlady 
and  neat-handed  domestics,  and  rooms  as  clean  and  bright 
as  a  Dutch  parlor,  with  excellent  beds.  ^'  Do  not  look  for 
luxuries,  or  even  for  what  you  call  comforts,  in  the  inns  on 
your  journey  to  Madrid,"  said  one  of  our  friends  at  San 
Sebastian.  "These  you  will  not  find,  but  you  will  find 
great  cleanliness,"  We  have  been  thus  far  agreeably  dis- 
appointed in  seeing  the  promise  of  cleanliness  so  well  ful- 
filled. 

When  we  left  Vergara,  the  next  morning,  the  fogs  were 
hanging  about  the  grand  rocks  and  mountains  in  which  the 
place  is  embosomed,  and  here  and  there  touching  with  their 
4 


14:  A     PEASANT     GIRL. 

skirts  the  Deva,  which  brawled  through  it.  We  went  up  the 
stream,  through  another  green  valley.  At  a  little  distance 
from  the  town  a  healthy-looking  young  woman,  in  a  white 
knit  basque  and  blue  petticoat,  with  a  gay  kerchief  tied 
round  her  head,  and  another  crossed  over  her  'bosom,  three 
strings  of  red  beads  round  her  neck,  and  a  large  flat  basket 
strapped  over  her  shoulders,  suddenly  made  her  appearance, 
standing  on  the  step  at  the  back  of  our  carriage.  We  sup- 
posed she  was  there  by  some  understanding  with  the  coach- 
man ;  and  as  she  had  a  bright,  cheerful  face,  we  had  no  ob- 
jection, and  immediately  entered  into  a  dialogue  with  her. 
Her  name,  she  said,  was  Eusebia ;  she  could  read  a  little ; 
she  subsisted  by  sewing  ;  she  had  been  on  a  visit  to  Verga- 
ra,  and  was  now  returning  to  Vitoria,  where  she  had  a 
brother.  As  we  proceeded,  we  frequently  saw  peasant  boys 
watching  flocks  of  long-woolled  white  and  black  sheep  on  the 
mountain  sides  ;  and  in  one  place  a  man  and  Av^oman  were 
busy  in  pulling  something  from  the  ground.  "  They  are 
gathering  fern,"  said  Eusebia.  The  whole  region,  in  fact, 
at  certain  heights  from  the  valley,  was  discolored  with  ferns, 
which  had  turned  of  a  dull  red.  The  girl  pointed  to  some 
large  stacks  of  the  same  color,  standing  by  the  houses  of  the 
peasants.  "  They  spread  them,"  she  said,  "  under  the  feet 
of  the  cattle." 

They  have  grand  names  in  Spain  for  ugly  villages — 
Mendragon,  Archivaleta,  Escoriaza,  Castanares — through  all 
which  we  passed,  the  good-natured  Eusebia  naming  them 
for  us.     At  length  our  coachman,   who  had  made  himself 


THE     CANTABRIAN     MOUNTAINS.  75 

hoarse  and  tired  the  day  before,  with  shouting  at  his  mules 
and  flogging  them,  and  was  now  beginning  to  urge  them 
forward  by  the  same  methods,  perceived  by  the  shadow  of 
the  carriage  on  the  road-side  that  he  had  a  superfluous 
passenger,  and  giving  her  a  cruel  cut  or  two  with  the 
long  lash  of  his  whip,  compelled  her  to  get  down.  We 
were  sorry  to  lose  her,  since,  though  not  very  fluent 
in  Castilian,  she  told  us  many  things  which  we  wished  to 
know. 

As  the  fog  cleared  away,  lofty  peaks  of  bare  rock,  of  a 
whitish  hue,  were  seen  rising  above  the  greener  summits  by 
which  we  were  surrounded.  We  took  on  a  pair  of  oxen,  and 
climbed  a  ridge  of  the  Cantabrian  mountains.  People  were 
gathering  chestnuts  along  the  way ;  boys,  mounted  on  the 
trees,  were  striking  ofi*  the  fruit  with  poles,  and  women  be- 
low were  stripping  them  from  their  husks,  and  carrying 
them  away  in  bags  poised  on  their  heads.  We  passed  an 
old,  walled  town,  Salinas,  below  which,  in  a  deep  ravine, 
murmured  the  Deva ;  and  here  salt  springs  break  out  of  the 
earth,  the  waters  of  which  are  intercepted  on  their  way  to 
the  river,  and  evaporated  to  salt,  by  artificial  heat.  We 
saw  the  smoke  rising  from  the  salt-works,  three  or  four  hun- 
dred feet  below  us. 

It  cannot  be  said  that  every  thing  stands  still  in  Spain  ; 
they  are  certainly  improving  their  roads,  and  that  is  one 
important  mark  of  progress.  We  were  travelling  on  an  ex- 
cellent macadamized  road ;  but  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
deep  glen  of  the  Deva  was  another,  leading   around  the 


76  ROADS     IN     SPAIN. 

curves  of  the  mountain,  with  a  gentler  ascent.  "That," 
said  our  coachman,  "is  the  new  road  to  Vitoria." 

"  Why  do  you  not  travel  it  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Because,"  he  replied,  "  it  is  longer.  It  is  not  so  steep, 
nor  so  uneven ;  but  it  is  a  league  further  to  Yitoria  by  that 
way." 

It  is  not  easy  to  turn  the  Spanish  people  from  the  old 
track.     They  like  old  customs,  old  prejudices,  old  roads. 

Beyond  Salinas  we  were  accosted  a  second  time  by  beg- 
gars. Several  children  trotted  by  the  side  of  the  carriage, 
asking  alms,  and  at  the  summit  of  the  mountain  sat  a  ragged 
man,  with  a  head  of  enormous  size,  attended  by  a  boy,  whom 
he  sent  forth  as  his  messenger  to  the  passers-by.  We  were 
now  in  a  country  of  pastures — a  cold,  high  region,  from 
which  descending  gradually,  we  emerged  into  fields  of  tilth, 
and  found  ourselves  on  the  plain  of  Vitoria.  Here  the  Za- 
dorra  eats  its  way  through  the  crumbling  soil,  till  it  issues 
from  the  plain  by  a  pass  among  the  mountains  to  the  west. 
We  drove  through  a  dreary  straight  avenue  of  poplars,  be- 
tween a  vast  extent  of  fields  ploughed  for  the  next  harvest, 
and  passing  by  the  steep  streets  of  old  Vitoria,  seated  on  a 
hill,  entered  the  new  town,  between  goodly  rows  of  houses 
built  within  the  last  ^ve  years. 

At  the  Parador  de  las  Postas,  to  which  we  had  been  re- 
commended, we  could  find  no  rooms  ;  and  at  the  Parador 
Viejo  only  gloomy  ones.  We  applied  at  the  Parador  JSfuevo, 
where  a  dame  of  stately  person,  with  the  air  of  one  who  un- 
willingly confers  a  favor,  showed   us   more   cheerful   ones. 


AREIVAL     AT     VITORIA.  YY 

which  we  took,  notwithstanding  the  unprepossessing  man- 
ners of  the  hostess.  We  have  since  found  her  ungracious 
demeanor  imitated  by  her  handmaids. 

I  must  postpone  to  another  letter  what  I  have  to  say  of 
Vitoria. 


is  SPANISH     COURTESY. 


LETTEE    VIII. 

VITORIA-A  JOURNEY  TO  BURGOS. 

Burgos,  Old  Castile,  October  13,  1S61. 

On  arriving  at  Vitoria,  my  first  care  was  to  deliver  a 
letter  of  introduction  with  which  we  had  been  furnished  by 
kind  friends  at  San  Sebastian.  The  gentleman  to  whom  it 
was  addressed  was  not  in,  but  the  lady  of  the  house  received 
me  with  great  courtesy,  and  said :  "  This  house  is  yours, 
and  we  are  entirely  at  your  disposal.  If  any  thing  occurs  to 
you  in  which  we  can  be  of  the  least  service,  command  us  freely. 
//e,"  meaning  her  husband,  "  is  just  now  walking  out,  but 
we  shall  call  to-morrow  morning  on  you  and  your  family." 
To  offer  one's  house  is  one  of  the  indispensable  forms  of 
Spanish  politeness. 

After  this,  we  all  went  to  see  the  public  grounds,  of 
which  Vitoria  is  so  proud — the  Florida  and  the  Alameda. 
The  Florida  is  a  flower-garden,  bordering  the  new  part  of 
the  city,  crowded  with  the  most  brilliant  flowers,  in  bloom 
— roses,  dahlias,  verbenas  of  numerous  varieties,  and  plants 
of  still  rarer  kinds.  A  few  persons  were  slowly  pacing  the 
gravelled  walks  which  led  through  this  gay  wilderness.  We 
followed  them  into  a  little  park  of  old  trees,  among  which 


THE     ALAMEDA.  ^^9 

stood,  here  and  there,  a  colossal  statue  on  its  pedestal, 
and  from  this  a  long  avenue  of  trees  conducted  us  to  the  Al- 
ameda. 

The  Alameda  of  Vitoria  is  a  park,  I  should  think,  of 
some  fifteen  acres,  irregularly  planted  with  trees,  and  on  ac- 
count of  this  very  irregularity,  prettier  than  most  public 
grounds  of  the  kind  in  Spain.  A  few  huge,  tall  old  ashes, 
scattered  about,  tower  above  the  elms,  poplars,  and  locust 
trees  by  which  they  are  surrounded.  Priests  with  the  enor- 
mous brims  of  their  hats  rolled  up  on  each  side ;  students  at 
the  University,  preparing  for  the  same  vocation,  in  cocked 
hats  of  a  military  form,  and  long  black  cloaks ;  ladies,  in 
their  black  silk  vests  or  more  substantial  mantillas ;  stoop- 
ing, elderly  gentlemen  in  the  sleekest  of  beavers,  and 
younger  men  in  soft  hats,  were  walking  with  a  leisurely 
pace  up  and  down  among  the  trees.  We  were  disagreeably 
reminded  that  we  were  no  longer  in  the  soft  climate  of  San 
Sebastian,  for  a  wild,  chilly  wind  was  blowing  roughly  from 
the  west.  iSTotwithstanding  this,  we  met,  on  our  return 
through  the  avenue,  a  considerable  number  of  bareheaded 
ladies  walking  out  to  the  Alameda. 

The  gentleman  to  whom  my  letter  was  addressed  called 
the  next  morning — a  most  courteous  person,  who  renewed 
the  offers  of  service  made  by  his  lady.  He  would  hardly 
allow  us  to  praise  Vitoria.  "  No  sir — no,"  he  replied,  when 
I  spoke  of  its  cheerful  aspect.  "Vitoria  has  nothing  to 
attract .  the  attention  of  the  stranger  ;  we  have  no  beautiful 
public  biuldings ;  we  have  no  museums ;  we  have  no  public 


80  STBEET     SIGHTS, 

amusements ;  our  only  resource  of  this  sort  is  a  reading-room. 
You  have  seen,  you  say,  the  Florida  and  the  Alameda ;  you 
have  then  seen  all  that  Vitoria  has  to  show  you.  It  is  a  poor 
kind  of  place;  the  old  part  is  badly  built,  with  narrow 
streets ;  the  new  part  is  pretty  enough,  built  after  the  style 
of  Madrid,  but  there  is  little  of  it  yet."  He  admitted,  'how- 
ever, that  the  city  was  increasing  in  population  and  extent ; 
and  really  it  had  a  thriving  air ;  the  houses  were  in  good 
repair,  the  streets  were  kept  carefully  clean,  and  where'  they 
descended  southward  to  the  plain  new  buildings  were  going 
up.  Trains  of  loaded  mules  were  constantly  passing  under 
our  windows,  shaking  their  little  bells ;  donkeys  with  bur- 
dens bigger  than  themselves,  were  driven  along  by  skinny 
countrywomen,  or  black-eyed  country  maidens,  and  some- 
times the  poor  animal  had  to  bear  a  stout  peasant,  sitting 
sideways  ;  diligences  of  enormous  size,  crowded  with  passen- 
gers and  heaped  with  baggage,  jarred  the  pavement  as  they 
thundered  over  it.  At  the  hours  when  the  streets  were  least 
thronged,  the  street-cleaners  made  their  appearance,  in  their 
peculiar  costume — a  high,  shaggy,  black  cap,  and  a  sort  of 
dark  brown  tunic,  reaching  below  the  knees,  and  bound 
round  the  waist  with  a  leathern  girdle. 

"  We  can  show  you  something  beside  the  Florida  and 
Alameda,"  said  another  gentleman,  to  whose  civilities  we 
had  been  recommended ;  "we  have  at  Vitoria  a  picture  of 
the  Crucifixion,  by  a  famous  painter ;  and  I  will  take 
you,  if  you  please,  to  see  it."  Under  his  guidance  we 
climed  the  eminence  on  which  Old  Vitoria  is  built,  passing 


RIBERA'S     DEAD     CHRIST.  81 

one  or  two  rows  of  buildings  recently  erected,  with  arcades 
over  the  sidewalks,  and  mounting,  by  occasional  flights  of 
steps,  till  we  reached  the  narrow,  quiet  streets  among  which 
stands  the  cathedral.  Several  groups  of  sauntering  ecclesiasti- 
cal students,  though  queerly  attired  themselves,  seemed  to  find 
something  quite  as  strange  in  our  appearance,  for  they 
stared  at  us  with  great  curiosity.  The  boys  were  not  con- 
tent at  staring,  but  shouted  to  each  other  to  look  at  us. 

The  cathedral  is  an  old  Gothic  building,  with  nothing 
remarkable  except  a  peculiarity  which  deforms  its  architect- 
ure— that  is  to  say,  a  kind  of  bridge,  thrown  across  the  nave 
from  each  column  to  its  opposite  neighbor,  about  half  way 
from  the  floor  to  the  roof.  A  boy  opened  the  shutters  which 
darkened  the  sacristy,  and  showed  us  the  picture  which  we 
had  come  to  see — not  a  Crucifixion,  but  a  Dead  Christ,  at- 
tributed to  Kibera.  The  head  and  figure  are  too  merely 
handsome  to  suit  our  conceptions  of  the  Saviour ;  but  they 
are  finely  painted.  At  the  feet  of  the  body  kneels  Mary 
Magdalen,  her  hands  pressed  together  with  a  look  of  de- 
spair ;  the  sister  of  Lazarus  stands  by  its  side  in  a  more 
subdued  sorrow,  while  Mary,  the  mother,  who  supports  it, 
raises  her  eyes  in  sadness,  but  with  a  look  of  trust,  to  heaven. 
The  effect  of  the  picture  is  injured  by  the  introduction  of 
several  cherubs,  hovering  about,  with  their  pretty  baby  faces 
distorted  by  crying. 

I  went  again  to  the  Alameda  the  second  day  after  our 
arrival,  a  little  before  sunset.  A  violent  wind  was  driving 
over  the  clouds  from  the  west,  and  the  place  was  deserted. 
4* 


82  THE     WINTER     WALK     AT     VITORIA. 

Instead  of  the  promenaders  I  had  seen  the  day  before,  there  was 
a  flock  of  long-woolled  sheep,  black  and  white,  which  were  to 
appear  at  the  fair  the  next  day.  They  were  biting  the  short 
grass,  and  little  girls  were  sweeping  together  and  putting 
into  baskets  the  leaves  which  the  wind  was  tearing  from  the 
trees.  I  continued  my  walk  beyond  the  Alameda  into  the 
open  country ;  it  was  a  bare,  bleak  expanse  of  stubble-fields, 
or  grounds  freshly  ploughed,  or  those  in  which  ploughmen 
were  guiding  their  oxen  and  scattering  seed.  There  was  not 
a  grove,  not  a  thicket,  not  a  belt  of  trees,  to  break  the  force 
of  the  wind  that  swept  over  it.  Only  a  few  lines  of  meagre 
poplars  appeared,  making  three  or  four  great  roads,  which 
led  across  the  plain  to  the  city. 

"  Where  do  you  walk  when  the  weather  is  bad  1 "  I  ask- 
ed of  one  of  my  new  acquaintances  at  Vitoria.  "We  take 
to  the  arquillos,^^  he  replied ;  "  we  walk  in  the  arcades  which 
surround  the  Plaza,  or  in  those  under  the  new  buildings 
which  you  have  seen  on  the  hill.  The  arcades  are  a  great 
resource  in  winter,  for  we  cannot  do  without  our  daily  walk." 
The  winters  at  Vitoria  I  was  told  are  often  severe.  The 
climate  is  not  warm  enough  for  vineyards  or  the  cultivation 
of  the  olive.  Sometimes  the  snow  lies  for  a  month  on  the 
ground,  yet  the  sleigh  is  unknown  here ;  the  pools  are  often 
sheeted  with  ice,  yet  nobody  skates. 

I  had  not  yet  exhausted  all  that  Vitoria  had  to  show  me, 
whatever  my  friends  might  say.  The  next  morning,  on 
looking  out  at  my  window,  I  saw  three  women,  each  with  a 
long  switch  in  her  hand,  and  before  them  walked  three  long- 


A     FAIR.  83 

legged,  flat-sided  pigs  of  the  country,  which  by  allowing 
them  to  proceed  very  leisurely,  and  pick  up  what  they  could 
find  worth  eating  by  the  way,  were  driven  with  uncommon 
success.  This  was  the  commencement  of  a  fair  which  was  to 
be  held  that  day  in  Vitoria.  Soon,  small  flocks  of  sheep  and 
goats,  oxen  in  pairs,  pigs  in  companies  of  four  or  five,  be- 
gan to  come  in  from  the  country,  and  mules  and  donkeys 
loaded  with  all  manner  of  country  products.  Booths  and 
stalls  were  opened  about  the  Plaza  and  the  vacant  spaces  in 
its  neighborhood,  and  the  buying  and  selling  began.  The 
market-place  was  spread  with  fruits,  the  principal  of  which 
were  huge  piles  of  tomatoes,  and  mountainous  heaps  of  sweet 
red  pepper,  the  pods  of  which  were  often  five  or  six  inches 
in  diameter.  I  strayed  among  the  stalls,  and  found  the 
countrywomen  providing  themselves  with  gay  kerchiefs  and 
coarse  prints,  and  the  men  buying  caps,  waistcoats  and  shoes. 
They  did  not  seem  to  me  so  good-looking  as  the  country  peo- 
ple about  San  Sebastian ;  they  were  a  wiud-dried  race,  as 
adust  as  the  fields  they  tilled ;  skinny  women  and  shrivelled 
men.  Among  the  flat  Basque  caps  were  many  of  the  black 
velvet  ones  of  Castile,  and  instead  of  hearing  only  Basque 
spoken,  as  at  San  Sebastian,  I  often  listened  to  the  clearer 
and  softer  Castilian.  Castilian  is,  in  fact,  the  language  of 
the  city,  though  in  the  country  Basque  is  also  spoken. 

In  one  place  I  saw  at  least  five  hundred  yoke  of  oxen, 
for  in  this  country  of  tilth  the  ox  is  the  great  helper  of  man. 
Many  of  them  were  noble  animals,  with  short  heads,  like 
those  on  ancient  medals  and  gems,  massive  necks  and  deep 


84  THE     PIGS. 

ample  chests ;  and  all  were  of  a  soft,  light-brown  hue.  In 
one  corner  a  group  of  donkeys  stood,  absolutely  motionless ; 
in  another  a  flock  of  goats,  white  and  black,  some  of  them 
with  thin,  flat,  twisted  horns,  were  restlessly  moving  about. 
Here  were  gathered  the  long-woolled  sheep,  with  their  white 
and  glossy  or  jet  black  fleeces;  there  were  the  merinos, 
which  in  this  country  are  carefully  guarded  from  extremes  of 
temperature,  and  Avhich  here,  as  with  us,  wear  their  fine 
close  fleeces  plastered  with  dirt. 

I  must  be  forgiven  if  I  took  most  interest  in  the  pig  mar- 
ket. The  pigs,  of  which  I  think  I  never  saw  the  equals  in 
length  of  legs  and  thinness  of  figure,  and  many  of  which  had 
bristles  curling  over  their  backs,  like  the  hair  of  a  spaniel, 
had  been  well  fed  to  keep  them  quiet,  and  as  long  as  they 
were  allowed  to  lie  together  and  sleep  on  the  pavement,  they 
made  no  disturbance.  It  was  amusing  to  see  the  buyer  and 
seller  standing  over  them,  earnestly  discussing  their  good  and 
bad  points,  like  horse-dealers  at  a  fair.  But'  as  soon  as  the 
bargain  was  struck,  the  transfer  was  made,  and  the  new  pro- 
prietor attempted  to  drive  off*  his  pig,  the  swinish  nature  was 
roused,  and  an  open  rebellion  was  the  consequence.  I  heard 
a  frightful  screeching  in  one  part  of  the  street,  and  looking 
that  way,  saw  two  men  and  one  woman  engaged  in  trying  to 
get  one  of  these  animals  into  the  new  home  assigned  to  him. 
The  men  had  each  hold  of  one  ear,  and  the  woman  was  pull- 
ing him  vigorously  by  the  tail,  to  induce  him  to  go  forward. 
Towards  the  close  of  the  day,  as  the  peasants  were  returning 
home  from  the  fair,  I  saw  several  pigs  conducted  to  their  new 


PUBLIC     SCHOOLS.  85 

abodes  in  this  manner,  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that,  with 
a  man  or  woman  at  each  ear  and  another  pulling  him  by  the 
tan,  a  pig  can  be  driven  with  as  much  certainty  as  any  other 
animal. 

I  asked  one  of  my  new  acquaintances  at  Vitoria  how 
many  of  these  people  could  read  and  write.  "  Too  many  of 
them  cannot,"  he  answered,  "but  we  have  now  a  liberal 
system  of  public  education,  and  with  the  next  generation 
the  case  will  be  quite  different.  In  all  the  country  neighbor- 
hoods schools  are  established,  and  men  of  competent  educa- 
tion sent  out  to  teach  in  them.  To  these  the  poorest  man 
may  send  his  children,  and  in  these  they  are  taught  to  read, 
write  and  compute.  In  the  considerable  towns  we  have 
schools  of  a  higher  class,  in  which  the  sciences  are  gratuitous- 
ly taught.  I  am  told  that  there  is  a  law,  but  I  have  not  seen 
it,  obliging  aU  parents  to  send  their  children  to  the  elementa- 
ry or  other  schools." 

I  was  interested  to  learn,  what  he  afterwards  told  me,  that 
although  in  the  rest  of  the  kingdom  of  Spain  the  salaries  of 
the  teachers  were  directly  paid  by  the  government,  yet  that 
in  the  Basque  provinces  so  much  of  the  democratic  element 
was  preserved  that  the  separate  communities  provided  for  the 
compensation  of  their  own  teachers. 

The  time  at  length  arrived  for  us  to  leave  Vitoria,  and 
we  set  out  one  rainy  morning  in  a  poor  sort  of  carriage,  hired 
specially  for  the  purpose,  for  there  was  no  room  in  the  dili- 
gences for  our  party.  It  was  drawn  by  three  strong  mules, 
driven  by  an  intelligent-looking  and  obliging  Castilian,  who 


86  A    CASTILIAN     COACHMAN. 

had  enough  to  do  in  urging  them  forward  by  shouting  and 
cracking  his  whip  over  their  heads.  Each  of  the  animals 
had  its  name ;  the  leader  was  Capitana ;  the  right  hand-mule 
next  to  the  wheel  was  La  Platera,  and  the  left-hand  one  Ma- 
cho gallardo.  Macho  gallardo  was  a  large,  sleek  creature  of 
his  kind,  who  had  to  hear  his  name  shouted  and  to  feel  his 
back  pommelled  twice  as  often  as  either  of  his  companions.  I 
have  observed  that  in  Spain  the  strongest  and  sleekest  mules 
get  the  greatest  number  of  blows ;  being  of  a  robust  consti- 
tution, they  bear  them  better  and  mind  them  less.  Our 
coachman  would  shout  Capitana  !  Capitana  I  laying  a  partic- 
ular stress  on  the  last  syllable — La  Platera!  La  Platera! 
and  next  Macho  !  Macho  !  and  then,  leaning  forward,  would 
deal  on  the  sleek,  comfortable-looking  Macho  gallardo  a  storm 
of  hearty  blows  with  the  stock  of  his  whip.  Macho  shook 
his  long  ears  and  sometimes  slightly  mended  his  pace,  and 
sometimes  crept  on  as  before,  just  as  the  humor  took  him. 

From  the  brown  expanse  of  stubble  and  ploughed  fields 
around  Vitoria,  we  rode  into  a  region  of  sandy  hillocks, 
abandoned  to  pasturage  and  ragged  with  tufts  of  furze.  De- 
scending from  this  and  following  out  the  Zadorra  through  a 
pass  among  the  hills,  here  and  there  made  pleasant  by  a  few 
trees,  we  reached  at  length  the  plain  watered  by  the  Ebro, 
an  inconsiderable  stream,  a  string  of  glassy  pools  connected 
by  slender  brawling  shallows,  on  the  banks  of  which  the 
stubble-fields  were  interspersed  with  a  few  vineyards,  heavy 
with  their  black  fruit.  A  little  beyond,  we  entered  a  wretch- 
ed town  called  Miranda  de  Ebro.     The  moment  our  carriage 


CASTILIAN     BEGGARS.  Si 

stopped  we  were  surrounded  by  a  swarm  of  beggars,  old  and 
young,  male  and  female,  wrapped  in  yellow-brown  rags,  and 
with  yellow-brown  faces.  I  must  do  the  Castilian  beggar, 
however,  the  justice  to  say  that,  generally  speaking,  he  does 
not  whine  like  a  French  beggar.  He  first  seeks  to  attract 
your  attention,  and  then  prefers  his  petition.  Here,  at  Mi- 
randa, I  was  accosted  with  the  epithet  Caballero  !  Cahallero  ! 
and  once  or  twice  I  was  touched  on  the  elbow,  but  if  I  paid 
no  attention,  they  went  no  further ;  the  beggars  of  Miranda 
are  too  proud  to  ask  alms  of  one  who  will  not  look  at 
them. 

At  Miranda  de  Ebro,  all  baggage  of  travellers  coming 
from  the  Basque  provinces  into  Old  Castile  undergoes  as 
strict  an  examination  as  when  they  cross  the  Spanish  fron- 
tier from  France.  Besides  opening  and  rummaging  our  trunks 
and  travelling  bags,  a  custom-house  oiOScer  crawled  into  our 
carnage,  and  almost  turned  it  inside  out,  looking  into  the 
boxes  and  pockets,  peeping  under  the  seats,  and  feeling  all 
over  the  lining.  At  Miranda,  miserable  as  the  place  appears, 
is  a  tolerable  inn,  where  we  got  a  good  breakfast  and  some 
excellent  pears,  and  after  an  interval  of  two  hours,  set 
out  quite  refreshed.  At  a  little  distance  from  our  stopping 
place  we  descended  into  a  little  valley,  so  finely  varied  with 
gentle  and  graceful  slopes,  and  overlooked  by  rocky  mountain 
summits,  so  jagged,  and  toothed,  and  blue,  that  we  involun- 
tarily exclaimed :  "  How  beautiful  would  all  this  be,  if  there 
were  but  a  little  green  turf  and  a  few  trees !  "  Close  by  was 
the  village  of  Ameyugo,  and  a  little  stream  with  a  pretty 


88  A     CASTILIAN     TRAVELLEK. 

name,  the  Oroncillo,  flowed  through  the  valley,  on  the  brink 
of  which  grew  several  elms ;  but  the  peasants  had  stripped 
them  of  their  side  branches,  and  forced  them  to  shoot  up  in 
slender  columns  of  small  twigs,  like  cypresses. 

We  were  entertained  by  the  sight  of  a  man,  who  follow- 
ed on  horseback  close  to  our  carriage,  as  if  to  shelter  himself 
from  the  wind,  that  blew  a  drizzling  rain  into  his  face.  He 
wore  the  black  velvet  cap  of  the  Castilian,  with  its  two  worst- 
ed tassels ;  an  ample  cloak  made  of  black  sheep's  wool,  which, 
having  faded  into  a  dull  brown,  had  been  refreshed  by  an 
enormous  patch  of  the  original  color ;  knee  breeches,  and  be- 
low them  a  pair  of  leathern  gaiters,  half  open  at  the  sides, 
to  show  the  stockings.  His  complexion  was  that  of  the  faded 
part  of  his  cloak.  His  feet  rested  in  a  pair  of  heavy  stirrups, 
which  were  studded  along  the  edge  of  the  sole  with  brass  nails. 
Once  or  twice  he  leaned  forward  over  the  pommel  of  his  sad- 
dle, and  laid  himself  down  on  his  horse's  mane ;  it  was  his 
mode  of  taking  his  siesta  ;  in  short  he  was  asleep,  as  was  evi- 
dent by  the  passive  manner  in  which  his  body  swayed  from 
side  to  side.  At  length,  as  we  were  entering  a  rocky  pass 
beyond  Ameyugo,  he  sat  upright,  and  entered  into  conversa- 
tion with  us. 

"  A  poor  country,"  said  he — "  a  poor  country.  They  get 
little  w^heat  from  these  rocks ;  but  these  are  nothing  to  what 
you  will  see  a  little  further  on."  He  was  right.  A  little 
further  on  we  entered  the  pass  of  Pancorvo.  I  had  not  seen,  in 
the  Alps  or  the  Pyrenees,  any  passage  between  mountain  walls 
so  wild  and  savage,  and  surrounded  by  rocks  piled  in  such 


THE     PASS     OF     PANCORVO.  89 

strange  and  fantastic  forms ;  perpendicular  precipices  of  im- 
mense height ;  loose  masses  so  poised  that  they  seemed  ready 
to  topple  on  our  heads  ;  twisted  ribs,  beetling  crags,  and  sharp 
needles  of  rock.  I  thought  of  the  lines  in  Shelley's  transla- 
tion of  Faust : 

"  The  giant-snouted  crags,  ho,  ho ! 
How  they  snort  and  how  they  blow — " 

and  almost  expected  these  strange  horned  masses  to  move 
with  life,  and  utter  voices  as  strange  as  their  forms.  In  this 
pass,  the  French  boast  that  in  the  War  of  the  Peninsula  a 
small  body  of  their  soldiers  held  Wellington  at  bay,  and  com- 
pelled him  to  turn  aside  from  the  great  highway  to  Biscay. 
There  is  nothing  said  of  this  in  the  English  guide-books. 

From  the  pass  of  Pancorvo  our  mules  were  flogged  and 
shouted  through  smooth,  bare,  wintry-looking  valleys,  along 
which  a  railway  route  had  been  surveyed,  as  a  channel  of 
communication  between  Bayonne  and  Madrid;  the  signal 
posts  were  still  standing.  We  alighted  at  Briviesca,  pleas- 
antly situated  on  the  Oca,  with  a  decent  and  spacious  inn, 
full  of  guests.  Some  of  our  party  were  a  little  concerned  at 
being  told  that  there  was  neither  milk,  butter,  nor  cheese  in 
the  place  ;  but  we  made  a  comfortable  meal  notwithstanding. 
I  had  heard  much  of  Castilian  gravity,  but  there  was  none 
of  it  in  the  inn  at  Briviesca ;  it  rang  with  laughter  nearly 
the  whole  night.  I  walked  over  part  of  Briviesca  the  next 
morning,  before  setting  out,  and  found  it  a  dirty  place,  badly 
paved  and  apparently  in  decay.     I  saw  a  good  many  brown 


90  BEIVIESCA. 

beggars,  but  half  the  rest  of  the  population  resembled  them 
in  looks  and  attire.  The  next  day  we  climbed  a  dreary 
height,  to  what  our  coachman  told  us  was  the  highest  table- 
land in  Spain :  a  cold,  bleak,  bare  region  of  pasturage,, rough 
with  pale,  hoary  furze  and  greener  juniper  bushes,  and  here  and 
there  a  stubble-field.  Descending  from  this,  we  descried  at 
a  distance  the  citadel  of  Burgos  on  a  hill,  and  near  it  the 
towers  of  the  majestic  cathedral.  We  entered  the  town  and 
obtained  lodgings  at  the  Fonda  de  las  Postas,  one  of  the 
best  hotels  in  Spain,  with  a  civil  hostess,  clean  rooms,  and 
most  attentive  handmaidens. 


BUEGOS.  91 


LETTEK     IX. 

THE  CITY  OF  BURGOS ITS  CATHEDRAL THE  CONVENT  OF  LAS 

HUELGAS. 

Burgos,  October  14,  1857. 
The  first  aspect  of  Burgos,  the  ancient  city  of  the  Cid 
and  the  chief  city  of  Old  Castile,  is  imposing.  As  the  trav- 
eller looks  at  the  castle  on  its  hill,  with  its  surrounding  for- 
tifications ;  the  massive  remains  of  its  ancient  walls ;  its  vast 
cathedral,  worthy,  by  its  magnificence,  to  have  exhausted 
the  revenues  of  an  empire ;  its  public  pleasure-grounds, 
stretching  along  the  banks  of  its  river,  almost  out  of  sight ; 
the  colossal  effigies  of  its  former  kings,  standing  at  the  bend 
of  the  stream  called  the  Espolon ;  and  its  stately  gate  of 
Santa  Maria,  where  the  statues  of  the  Cid  and  other  men  of 
the  heroic  age  of  Spain,  frown  in  their  lofty  niches,  he  natu- 
rally thinks  of  Burgos  as  the  former  seat  of  power  and  do- 
minion. Another  look  at  the  city,  consisting  of  a  few  close- 
ly-built streets  around  its  great  cathedral,  produces  the  effect 
of  disappointment.  Yet  the  town  is  much  more  populous 
than  the  guide-books  represent  it  to  be ;  they  put  down  its 
population  at  twelve  thousand,  while  the  recent  enumeration 
makes  it  thirty-two  thousand. 


d2  THE     CATHEDRAL. 

After  we  had  dined  and  given  a  satisfactory  answer  to 
our  civil  hostess,  who  inquired  whether  we  had  dined  well,  I 
lost  no  time  in  delivering  a  letter  of  introduction,  with  which 
I  had  been  kindly  furnished  at  Vitoria.  I  was  received  with 
the  usual  forms  of  Spanish  civility.  Esta  casa  es  suya,  "  this 
house  is  yours,"  said  my  new  acquaintance,  Don  Luis ;  a 
phrase  which,  I  am  told,  must  be  addressed  to  you  on  such 
occasions,  or  you  cannot  consider  yourself  as  a  welcome 
visitor. 

We  all  went  next  to  the  Alameda ;  but  it  was  yet  too 
early  for  the  company  with  which  it  is  thronged  in  fine 
weather.  Straight  rows  of  poplars,  elms,  and  locust  trees 
extend  northward  along  the  banks  of  the  Arlanza,  for  a  great 
distance,  and  between  them  are  beds  of  flowers.  In  these 
long  avenues  it  is  easy  for  one  to  walk  himself  tired,  without 
often  passing  over  the  same  ground. 

The  next  morning,  Don  Luis,  the  gentleman  to  whom  1 
had  an  introduction,  called  with  a  friend  of  his,  Don  Pedro, 
to  take  us  to  the  cathedral.  I  shall  not  weary  those  who 
may  read  this  letter,  with  a  formal  description  of  the  build- 
ing, of  which  there  are  so  many  accounts  and  so  many  en- 
gravings. No  engraving,  however,  nor  any  drawing  that  I 
have  seen — and  I  have  seen  several  by  clever  English  artists 
in  water-colors — gives  any  idea  of  the  magnificence  and 
grandeur  of  its  interior.  The  immense  round  pillars  that 
support  the  dome  in  the  centre  of  the  building,  rise  to  a 
height  that  fatigues  the  eye.  Your  sight  follows  them  up, 
climbing  from  one  noble  statue  to  another,  placed  on  pedes- 


BEAUTY     OF     ITS     ARCHITECTURE.  93 

tals  that  sprout  from  their  sides  as  if  they  were  a  natural 
growth,  until  it  reaches  the  broad  vault  where,  amid  crowds 
of  statues  and  the  graceful  tracery  of  the  galleries,  the  light 
of  heaven  streams  in  and  floods  the  nave  below.  It  is  one  of 
the  merits  of  the  cathedral  of  Burgos,  that  numerous  and 
sumptuous  as  are  the  accessories,  they  detract  nothing  from 
the  effect  of  its  grandeur,  and  that  the  most  profuse  richness 
of  detail  harmonizes  genially  with  the  highest  majesty  of 
plan.  The  sculptures  in  relief,  with  which  the  walls  are  in- 
crusted  ;  the  statues,  the  canopies,  the  tracery,  even  the 
tombs,  seem  as  necessary  parts  of  the  great  whole,  as  forests 
and  precipices  are  of  the  mountains  of  Switzerland. 

As  I  stood  under  the  great  dome  and  looked  at  its  ma- 
jestic supports,  I  was  strongly  reminded  of  the  mosques  at 
Constantinople,  built  in  the  time  of  the  munificent  Saracen 
dynasties.  It  was  impossible  not  to  recognize  a  decided  re- 
semblance between  them  and  this  building,  so  different  from 
the  cathedrals  of  the  North.  The  cathedral  of  Burgos  was 
evidently  designed  by  a  mind  impregnated  with  Saracenic 
ideas  of  architecture ;  its  towers,  wrought  with  a  lightness 
and  delicacy  which  makes  them  look  as  if  woven  from  rods 

j  of  flexible  stone,  are  of  the  northern  Gothic  ;  but  its  dome  in 
the  centre,  with  the  enormous  round  pillars  on  which  it  is 
uplifted,  is  Oriental.  It  is  wonderful  how  perfect  is  the 
preservation  of  the  purely  architectural  parts  of  this  cathedral. 

I'  The  sculptures  have  been,  in  some  instances,  defaced  in  the 
wars  by  which  Spain  has  suffered  so  much;  the  carvings 
about  the  altar  have  been  in  some  part  destroyed,  and  inade- 


^4  SIDE     CHAPELS. 

quately  restored ;  but  time  has  respected  the  stones  of  the 
building,  and  from  the  pedestals  of  the  columns  up  to  their 
capitals,  they  look  almost  as  fresh  from  the  chisel  as  they 
must  have  looked  four  centuries  ago. 

We  were  taken,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  the  chapel 
called  del  Santmmo  Cristo,  in  which  is  a  figure  of  Christ  on 
the  Cross,  of  the  size  of  life,  with  his  head  bowed  in  the 
final  agony.  It  is  a  clever  but  somewhat  frightful  represen- 
tation of  the  last  sufferings  of  the  Saviour,  but  the  devout  of 
Burgos  hold  that  it  exceeds  the  ordinary  perfection  of  art, 
and  attribute  to  it  the  power  of  working  miracles.  In  a  book 
lying  before  me,  I  am  informed  that,  according  to  the  "  gen- 
erally received  opinion,"  it  is  the  work  of  Nicodemus.  "  It 
is  of  leather,"  said  Don  Luis,  "  and  so  much  like  the  living 
body,  that  the  flesh  yields  to  your  touch,  and  when  you  with- 
draw your  finger,  recovers  its  place." 

We  had  passed  through  most  of  the  chapels,  including 
that  magnificent  one  of  the  Condestable,  in  which  lie  the 
bones  of  the  founders — one  of  the  Velasco  family  and  his 
wife — under  a  broad  marble  slab,  supporting  their  own  colos- 
sal statues,  exquisitely  carved  in  marble,  with  coronets  on 
their  heads,  and  ample  robes  of  state,  rich  with  lace  and  em- 
broidery, flowing  to  their  feet.  As  we  were  about  leaving  the 
cathedral  by  the  principal  entrance,  Don  Luis  took  me  into 
the  chapel  of  Santa  Tecla,  to  the  north  of  the  great  portal. 
"  This,"  said  he,  "  is  the  latest  built  of  all  the  chapels,  and 
it  is  easy  to  see  that  it  is  not  of  the  same  age  with  any  of 
the  others."     I  looked  about  me  and  felt  as  if  I  had  sudden- 


A     SPANISH      ORDINARY.  95 

ly  fallen  from  a  world  of  beauty  into  a  region  of  utter  ugli- 
ness. The  chapel  in  all  its  parts  is  rough  with  endless  pro- 
jections and  elaborate  carvings,  without  meaning  or  grace, 
and  blazes  with  gilding ;  the  general  effect  is  tawdry  and 
ignoble.  How  any  architect  with  the  example  of  the  cathe- 
dral before  him,  and  the  beautiful  chapels  which  open  from 
it,  could  have  designed  any  thing  in  so  wretched  a  style,  I 
cannot  imagine. 

We  dined  that  day  at  the  ordinary,  or  mesa  reclonda^ 
which  was  served  at  two  o'clock,  the  fashionable  hour  at  Bur- 
gos. With  the  exception  of  one  or  two,  who  sat  at  the  head 
of  the  table,  the  men  wore  their  hats  while  eating.  The 
Spaniards  consider  the  eating-room  in  a  hotel  as  much  a 
public  place  as  the  great  square,  and  consequently  use  much 
the  same  freedom  in  it.  I  saw  the  guests  at  the  table  turn 
their  heads  and  spit  on  the  floor.  They  shovelled  down  the 
chick  peas  and  cabbage  with  the  blades  of  their  knives, 
which  they  used  with  great  dexterity.  They  were  polite, 
however ;  not  one  of  them  would  allow  himself  to  be  helped 
to  any  dish  until  after  all  the  ladies;  at  the  dessert  they 
offered  the  ladies  the  peaches  they  had  peeled,  and  they  rose 
and  bowed  when  the  ladies  left  the  room.  On  going  out,  we 
were  again  met  by  the  hostess,  who  hoped  that  w^e  had  dined 
well ;  and  being  assured  that  we  had,  expressed  her  pleasure 
at  the  information. 

The  talk  at  the  table  was  principally  of  the  bull-fight, 
which  was  to  take  place  that  day  at  Burgos.  I  took  a  turn 
after  dinner  with  Don  Luis  and  Don  Pedro  on  the  new  pub- 


96  A     PUBLIC     WALK. 

lie  walk,  the  Paseo  de  la  Tinta,  extending  along  the  Arlanza 
for  the  space  of  a  league,  and  found  it  almost  deserted ;  only 
here  and  there  a  solitary  stroller,  and  a  few  children  with 
their  nurses.  From  time  to  time  the  air  was  rent  with  the 
shouts  of  a  multitude,  at  no  great  distance.  "It  is  the 
clamor  of  the  spectators  of  the  bull-fight,"  said  Don  Pedro ; 
"  the  public  walks  are  forsaken  for  the  plaza  de  toros.  I  do 
not  know  whether  your  sight  is  as  good  as  mine  ;  but  do  you 
see  that  crowd  of  people  on  the  hill  ?  "  I  looked  in  the  di- 
rection to  which  he  pointed,  and  beheld  an  eminence,  nearly 
half  a  mile  from  the  broad  circular  amphitheatre  of  rough 
boards  erected  for  the  bull-fight,  thronged  with  people. 
"  There,"  said  Don  Pedro,  "  is  a  proof  of  the  interest  which 
is  taken  in  these  spectacles.  Those  people  cannot  pay  for 
admission  to  the  amphitheatre,  and  therefore  content  them- 
selves with  what  little  they  can  see  of  it  from  that  dis- 
tance. All  Burgos  is  either  in  the  amphitheatre  or  on  the 
hill." 

Not  quite  all  Burgos,  however,  was  at  the  bull-fight.  As 
we  walked  on,  we  met  a  few  priests,  and  next  a  throng  of 
young  men,  nearly  a  hundred  in  number,  walking  two  by 
two,  dressed  in  long  black  gowns,  and  black  caps,  the 
brims  of  which,  made  to  turn  up  close  around  the  crown, 
were  cut  into  points  like  a  coronet.  They  looked  hard  at 
me  as  they  passed,  seeing  something,  I  suppose,  exotic  in  my 
appearance.  "  They  are  young  men  designed  for  the  church," 
said  my  Spanish  friends  ;  "  the  priests  are  rarely  present  at 
the  bull-fights," 


A     SPANISH     BEAUTY.  97 

I  had  made  an  engagement  to  go  the  next  morning  to  Las 
Huelgas^  a  Cistertian  convent  close  to  the  city,  and  to  the 
secularized  Carthusian  convent,  about  a  league  oflf.  At  nine 
o'clock  a  clumsy  carriage,  built  like  a  small  omnibus,  was  at 
the  door  of  our  hotel,  drawn  by  five  mules,  gay  with  tags 
and  tassels  of  crimson  and  white,  and  guided  by  two  coach- 
men— one  who  sat  on  the  box,  held  the  reins  and  cracked 
the  whip,  and  another,  sitting  beside  him,  whose  business  it 
was  to  leap  down  and  run  with  the  animals,  turn  them  where 
it  became  necessary,  and  flog  them  into  a  gallop.  We  pro- 
ceeded to  the  house  of  Don  Luis,  where  we  took  in  Don 
Pedro  and  the  matron  of  the  family,  with  her  niece,  a  young 
married  lady,  who  seemed  to  me  to  realize  in  her  person 
the  ideal  of  Spanish  beauty — regular  features,  lips  and  chin 
as  finely  moulded  as  those  of  an  antique  statue,  large  dark 
eyes,  redundant  dark  locks,  a  face  of  the  most  perfect  oval, 
plump,  white  hands,  and  a  stately  form,  rounded  to  a  cer- 
tain Junonian  fulness. 

As  soon  as  we  had  left  the  paved  streets  and  crossed  the 
Arlanza,  our  second  coachman — a  lithe,  light  young  fellow — 
began  whipping  the  mules  over  the  macadamized  road,  laying 
heavy  thwacks  on  the  sturdiest  of  them,  till  he  had  got  them 
into  a  rapid  gallop,  himself  running  by  their  side  like  the 
wind.  He  then  sprang  upon  the  box,  and  we  rattled  on  till 
a  loaded  wagon,  drawn  by  ten  mules,  came  in  our  way,  when 
he  was  off  his  seat  in  an  instant  to  guide  the  beasts  and  pre- 
vent a  collision.  The  moment  the  pace  of  his  mules  flagged 
a  little,  he  was  by  their  side  plying  his  whip,  and  once  or 


98  LAS     HUELGAS. 

twice  the  principal  coachman  leaped  from  the  box  to  help 
him. 

At  length  we  turned  off  from  the  great  highway,  and 
struck  out  into  a  wretched,  uneven  road,  like  all  the  cross- 
roads in  Spain,  even  under  the  walls  of  the  cities,  and  were 
jolted  along  for  some  distance  beside  an  enclosure  with  high 
walls,  over  which  fruit-trees  were  peering.  "It  is  the 
orchard  and  garden  of  the  convent,"  said  one  of  our  Spanish 
friends.  We  next  drove  through  a  lofty  gateway,  and  en- 
tered a  broad,  paved  court,  in  the  middle  of  which  stood  a 
large  building  with  windows  secured  by  iron  grates,  and  a 
church  beside  it.  On  three  sides  of  the  court  were  dwelling- 
houses  and  oflSces.  "  There,"  said  our  Spanish  friends,  "  live 
the  chaplains  of  the  convent  and  the  other  persons  employed 
in  its  service." 

We  went  immediately  to  the  room  of  the  portress,  w^here 
we  held  a  short  dialogue  with  two  or  three  slatternly-looking 
young  servant-girls.  It  was  too  early  yet  to  see  the  Lady 
Abbess ;  it  was  not  quite  ten  o'clock.  We  had  but  ten  min- 
utes to  wait,  however,  and  at  the  end  of  that  time  we  were  in- 
formed that  we  were  at  liberty  to  go  up  to  the  convent  grate. 
We  ascended  a  cold,  narrow  staircase,  to  a  little  room,  in 
which  was  an  iron  grate  in  the  wall,  and  close  to  the  grate 
were  a  little  table  and  five  chairs,  in  which  the  ladies  of  our 
party  seated  themselves.  A  sliding  shutter  behind  the  grate 
was  withdrawn,  and  through  the  opening  we  saw  a  thin  old 
lady,  of  a  lively  aspect,  come  almost  bounding  into  the  room 
on  the  opposite  side.     She  was  in  the  garb  of  her  order — an 


A    LADY     ABBESS.  99 

ample  white  woollen  robe,  with  very  wide  sleeves,  and  a 
white  cap  with  a  black  peak,  to  the  summit  of  which  was 
fastened  a  black  veil,  falling  over  the  shoulders.  She  kissed 
the  elder  of  the  Spanish  ladies  through  the  grate,  with  all 
the  fervor  of  an  old  acquaintance,  shook  hands  with  the 
younger,  bowed  graciously  to  the  rest,  and  began  to  talk  in 
the  most  animated  manner.  "  And  these  friends  of  ours," 
she  asked,  "where  are  they  froml"  "From  America." 
"  Ah,  I  have  a  nephew  in  America,  at  Cordova,  in  Peru,  and 
he  likes  the  place  much  ;  perhaps  they  know  him."  We  had 
a  little  difficulty  in  making  clear  to  her  mind  the  distance 
between  New  York  and  Cordova,  in  Peru ;  but  she  went  on 
to  give  the  history  of  her  nephew,  his  wanderings  and  his 
settlement  at  last  in  Peru.  "  And  you  are  going  whither  ?  " 
she  asked  again.  "To  Valencia,  to  Alicante,  to  Seville, 
probably,  and  Granada,  and,  finally,  to  Eome."  "Ah,  to 
Kome  !  You  will  have  much  to  see  in  Eome.  But  I  have  a 
nephew  in  Seville,  and  I  will  give  you  a  letter  of  recom- 
mendation to  him,  and  he  will  show  you  every  thing  you 
may  desire  to  see  in  the  place." 

The  interview  lasted  about  half  an  hour,  after  which  the 
Abbess  again  kissed  the  Spanish  matron,  shook  hands  with 
the  eldest  lady  of  our  party,  and  wishing  us  a  good  journey, 
and  commending  us  to  the  care  of  God,  departed  with  as 
light  and  quick  a  step  as  she  came. 

Entering  the  church  of  the  convent,  we  heard  a  sound  of 
silvery  voices ;  they  proceeded  from  a  large  and  lofty  side- 
chapel,  separated  from  the  church  by  a  massive  iron  grate, 


100  CHANT     OF     THE     NUNS. 

reacliing  from  the  floor  to  tlie  ceiling,  behind  which  we  be- 
held the  nuns  moving  in  procession,  and  chanting  as  they 
walked.  Several  of  them  seemed  quite  young,  and  looked 
pretty  in  their  singular  attire.  "  Those  whom  you  see  in 
white  hoods,"  said  one  of  the  ladies  who  accompanied  us, 
"  are  novices ;  they  wear  the  costume  and  submit  to  the 
rules  of  the  order  for  a  year,  at  the  end  of  which  they  either 
take  the  veil,  or,  if  they  please,  return  to  the  world.  If,  at 
the  end  of  the  year,  they  find  that  they  have  a  vocation  to  a 
religious  life,  they  are  received  into  the  order,  and  go  out  of 
the  convent  no  more."  "  These  nuns,"  she  afterwards  added, 
"  are  Bernar dines,  and  the  rule  is  not  an  austere  one.  They 
are  all  of  noble  families ;  their  convent  is  richly  endowed ;  each 
of  them  has  her  own  waiting-maid,  and  they  live  in  comfort." 
As  we  were  listening  to  the  chant  of  the  nuns,  we  were 
accosted  by  a  youth  in  a  black  gown,  with  a  white  scarf  over 
his  shoulder,  who  pointed  to  a  little  square  window  in  the 
wall,  and  signified  that  the  Lady  Abbess  desired  to  speak 
with  us.  We  went  immediately  to  the  window.  "  I  thought 
you  might  like  to  look  into  this  chapel,"  said  the  Abbess ;  "  it 
is  the  famous  Chapel  of  St.  Ferdinand,  who  took  upon  him- 
self the  order  of  knighthood  here ;  and  here  are  buried  all 
the  infantas  of  Spain."  We  could  perceive  that  the  place 
was  full  of  monuments,  of  which,  however,  we  could  take  but 
a  very  imperfect  view.  "  Farewell  again,"  said  the  Abbess, 
"  I  shall  not  fail  to  send  the  letter  for  my  nephew."  At  this 
time,  several  persons  in  the  priestly  garb  began  chanting  a 
litany  near  to  where  we  stood,  with  deep,  mellow  voices  that 


CHANT     OF     PRIESTS. 


101 


filled  the  lofty  walls  and  seemed  to  make  them  shiver. 
"  These  nuns  have  good  music  among  their  other  comforts," 
we  said  to  each  other,  but  we  had  no  time  to  hear  more  of 
it ;  so  we  returned  to  our  carriage,  and  were  dragged  by  the 
galloping  mules  towards  the  Cartuja* 


102^  THE     CAETUJA. 


LETTEE  X. 

BURGOS — THE  CARTUJA — ^A  BULL  FIGHT. 

Madrid,  November  Is^,  ISS^Z. 
In  our  way  to  the  Cartuja  we  soon  turned  aside  into  a 
road  still  more  wretchedly  uneven  than  the  one  which  had 
led  us  to  Las  Huelgas.  After  half  an  hour  of  severe  jolting 
it  took  us  through  a  massive  gateway,  by  which  the  posses- 
sions of  the  convent  were  once  entered ;  but  the  rest  of  the 
enclosure  has  entirely  disappeared.  Half  a  mile  from  this, 
we  stopped  at  an  imposing  Gothic  edifice  on  a  hill.  This  was 
the  convent,  and  we  turned  to  look  at  the  extensive  view  it 
commanded — the  view  of  a  broad,  smooth  vale,  stretching 
league  beyond  league — of  the  brown  color  of  the  soil,  with- 
out trees  and  without  houses,  except  a  village  to  the  right, 
and  the  city  of  Burgos  to  the  left.  "  You  should  see  it  in  early 
summer,"  said  Don  Pedro,  "  when  it  is  luxuriant  with  vege- 
tation." A  ragged  fellow  conducted  us  into  the  building, 
where  we  passed  through  long,  beautiful,  silent  cloisters,  from 
the  roof  of  which,  in  places,  the  fresco  flowers  and  stars  were 
falling  in  small  flakes,  till  we  reached  the  chapel,  and  here  a 
priest,  who  was  already  occupied  with  a  French  artist  and 
his  lady,  took  charge  of  us.     From  the  chapel  and  the  other 


J 


MONUMENTS     IN     THE     CHAPEL.  103 

rooms,  all  the  fine  pictures  have  been  carried  away,  and  we 
were  shown  in  their  stead  what  were  not  worth  looking  at — 
some  wretched  things  by  a  monastic  brother.  But  what 
most  attract  and  repay  the  attention  of  the  visitor,  are  the 
monuments  of  the  father  and  mother  of  Isabella  the  Catho- 
lic, and  of  her  youthful  brother,  quaintly  and  delicately  carved 
in  alabaster,  with  a  singular  combination  of  grace  and  gro- 
tesqueness — the  grace  always  predominating — ^in  which  twin- 
ing stems,  foliage  and  flowers,  figures  of  quadrupeds  and 
birds,  of  men  and  women,  and,  among  these,  warriors,  pa- 
triarchs an  evangelists,  all  exquisitely  and  airily  wrought, 
are  clustered  together  in  marvellous  and  endless  complication. 
One  of  the  cells  of  the  Carthusian  monks  was  shown  us 
— a  little  chamber,  with  a  plank  bed  on  which  he  slept,  cov- 
ered only  with  his  brown  cloak.  Opening  from  it  was  the 
little  garden,  with  its  separate  wall,  which  he  tilled  alone ; 
and  on  another  side,  the  little  oratory,  where  he  knelt  and 
prayed.  ^^  Here,"  said  Don  Pedro,  pointing  to  a  little  open- 
ing from  the  cell  to  the  cloister,  "  is  the  window  through 
which  the  friar  received  his  meals,  to  be  eaten  in  solitude." 
As  we  were  about  to  go  out,  I  said  to  Don  Pedro,  "  Is  it  the 
custom  to  give  a  fee  here  ?  "  "  No ; "  he  replied,  with  some 
quickness,  "  not  by  any  means."  I  could  not  help  suspecting, 
however,  that  there  was  something  in  the  rules  of  Spanish 
politeness  which  dictated  this  answer,  for  at  that  moment  we 
passed  into  the  Campo  Santo,  or  burial-ground  of  the  convent 
— a  spacious  area  enclosed  by  the  building,  spotted  with  lit- 
tle hillocks,  where  the  monks  in  utter  silence  dug  their  own 


k 


104  A     BULL     FIGHT. 

graves,  and  Don  Pedro  said,  "  You  see  that  part  of  the  ground 
has  been  dug  up  and  sown  with  grain.  The  ecclesiastics  who 
take  care  of  the  building  do  this  to  piece  out  a  scanty  liveli- 
hood, for  the  government  only  allows  them  a  peseta,  the  fifth 
part  of  a  dollar,  a  day."  The  graves  had  no  monuments,  but 
close  to  the  newest  of  them,  where  the  earth  had  still  a  bro- 
ken appearance,  stood  an  iron  cross,  with  the  lower  end 
driven  into  the  ground.  As  we  stepped  from  the  burial- 
ground  into  the  cloisters,  and  the  priest  locked  the  door  after 
us,  I  put  a  trifle  into  his  hand,  which  he  received  with  an  air 
that  showed  he  expected  it. 

That  afternoon,  at  the  special  urgency  of  Don  Pedro — ^for 
I  wished  to  postpone  the  spectacle  till  I  should  arrive  at  Mad- 
rid— I  went  with  one  of  our  party  to  a  bull  fight.  "  This 
is  the  last  day,"  said  our  Spanish  friend ;  "  to-morrow  the 
amphitheatre  will  be  removed,  every  plank  of  it,  and  we  shall 
have  no  more  combats  for  a  year."  We  found  the  place, 
which  they  told  us  was  capable  of  containing  six  thousand 
persons,  already  full  of  people  impatiently  drumming  with 
their  feet,  to  hint  that  it  was  high  time  for  the  sport  to  begin. 
Nine-tenths  or  more  of  them  were  of  the  laboring  class,  and 
their  bright-colored  costumes,  particularly  those  of  the  women, 
gave  the  crowd  a  gay  appearance.  Many  children  of  various 
ages  were  among  them,  and  some  of  these,  showily  dressed 
and  attended  by  nurses,  were  evidently  of  opulent  families. 
We  took  our  places  in  the  uppermost  circle,  under  a  narrow 
sort  of  roof  which  sheltered  us  from  the  sun ;  below  us  was 
range  after  range  of  seats  open  to  the  sky,  descending  to  the 


PROCESSION     OP     COMBATANTS.  105 

central  circle,  the  arena,  in  which  the  combats  were  to  take 
place. 

An  alguazil,  in  black,  first  rode  round  the  arena,  pro- 
claiming the  regulations  of  the  day.  He  was  followed  by  a 
procession  of  the  performers,  in  their  gay  dresses ;  the  pica- 
dores,  glittering  with  gold  and  silver  lace,  on  horseback, 
with  their  broad-brimmed  hats  and  long  lances ;  the  chulos 
on  foot,  with  their  red  cloaks ;  the  handerilleros,  with  their 
barbed  shafts,  wrapped  in  strips  of  white  paper ;  the  mata- 
dores,  with  their  swords ;  and  lastly,  three  mules,  gayly  capar- 
isoned, with  strings  of  little  bells  on  their  necks,  who  were 
to  drag  out  the  slain  bulls.  Loud  shouts  rose  from  the  crowd, 
and  then  a  door  was  opened,  and  an  enormous  bull,  jet  black, 
with  massive  chest  and  glaring  eyes,  bounded  into  the  arena. 
He  ran  first  at  the  chulos,  who  shook  their  cloaks  at  him,  but 
his  rage  appeared  soon  to  subside.  A  picador  put  his  lance 
against  the  animal's  forehead,  but  he  shook  it  ofi*  and  turned 
away.  The  chulos  again  came  capering  about  him  and  trying 
to  provoke  him,  but  he  pursued  them  only  a  few  steps.  Then 
rose  the  cry  of.  Ah,  que  es  manso  !  que  es  iimnso  !  codarde  ! 
codarde  !  *  Finally,  the  people  began  to  call  for  the  dogs. 
Los  perros  !  los  perros  !  rose  from  a  thousand  throats.  Three 
large  dogs  were  brought,  which,  barking  loudly,  flew  at  the 
bull  with  great  fury.  He  took  them  one  after  another  on  his 
horns,  and  threw  them  up  in  the  air ;  one  of  them  he  caught 
in  his  fall,  and  tossed  him  again.  The  dogs  tore  his  ears  into 
strings,  but  they  were  soon  either  disabled  or  cowed,  and  only 

*  ''Ah,  how  tame  he  is!  how  tame  he  is!  a  coward!  a  coward! " 
5* 


106  A     BULL     KILLED. 

attacked  him  warily,  while  he  kept  them  off  by  presenting 
to  them  first  one  horn  and  then  the  other.  Then  the  dogs 
were  withdrawn  and  the  chulos  tried  him  again,  but  he  would 
not  chase  them  far ;  the  pkadores  poked  at  him  with  their 
lances,  but  he  declined  to  gore  their  horses.  The  crowd 
shouted  vigorously,  "  Away  with  him !  away  with  him !  "  and 
at  length  the  door  by  which  the  bull  had  entered  was  set 
wide  open,  that  he  might  make  his  retreat.  But  the  bull 
would  not  go ;  he  was  not  minded  either  to  fight  or  quit  the 
field.  "  Kill  him !  kill  him !  "  exclaimed  a  thousand  throats 
— and  the  signal  was  given,  in  obedience  to  which  one  of  the 
matador es — the  'primera  espada,  as  the  Spaniards  call  him,  just 
as  the  Italians  S3i,j  prima  donna — ^made  his  appearance  with  a 
red  cloak  on  his  arm,  and  a  long,  glittering,  straight  sword 
in  his  right  hand.  He  shook  the  cloak  at  the  bull,  who  made 
a  rush  at  it,  while  the  matador  at  the  same  moment  attempted 
to  pierce  the  animal  to  the  heart  through  the  chine.  Three 
times  he  sought  to  make  the  fatal  pass ;  at  the  third  he  was 
successful,  burying  the  blade  up  to  the  hilt.  A  torrent  of 
blood  flowed  from  the  creature's  mouth,  he  istaggered  and 
fell ;  a  sound  of  little  bells  was  heard ;  the  three  mules,  har- 
nessed abreast,  came  in,  and  dragged  out  the  lifeless  carcase. 
Another  bull,  of  smaller  size,  but  of  more  savage  temper, 
was  then  let  into  the  arena.  He  ran  fiercely  at  the  chulos, 
chasing  them  into  the  places  of  shelter  built  for  them  beside 
the  barrier,  and  the  crowd  shouted,  "  Es  muy  hravo,  ese  !  muy 
bravo  .'  "  *     A  picador  touched  with  his  lance  the  forehead  of 

*  He  is  very  fierce,  that  fellow,  very  fierce  f 


HORSES     KILLED.  107 

the  animal,  who  instantly  rushed  towards  him,  raised  with 
his  horns  the  horse  he  rode,  and  laid  him  on  the  ground,  rip- 
ping open  his  bowels.  I  then  perceived,  with  a  sort  of  hor- 
ror, that  the  horse  had  been  blindfolded,  in  order  that  he 
might  not  get  out  of  the  way  of  the  bull.  The  chulos  came 
up  with  their  red  cloaks,  and  diverted  the  attention  of  the 
bull  from  his  victim,  while  the  picador,  who  had  fallen  under 
his  horse,  was  assisted  to  rise.  Four  other  horses  were 
brought  forth  blindfolded  in  this  manner,  and  their  lives  put 
between  the  picador  and  the  fury  of  the  bull,  and  each  was 
killed  in  its  turn,  amidst  the  shouts  and  applauses  of  the 
crowd. 

One  of  the  handerilleros  now  came  forward,  provoked  the 
bull  to  rush  at  him,  by  shaking  his  cloak  before  his  eyes,  and 
leaping  aside,  planted  one  of  his  barbed  shafts  with  its  paper 
streamers,  in  each  of  the  animal's  shoulders.  Others  follow- 
ed his  example,  till  the  bleeding  shoulders  of  the  bull  were 
garnished  with  five  or  six  handerillas  on  each  side.  The 
creature,  however,  was  evidently  becoming  tired,  and  the 
signal  was  given  to  finish  him  ;  a  matador  came  forward  and 
planted  a  sword  in  his  heart,  but  he  made  a  violent  efibrt  to 
keep  his  legs,  and  even  while  falling,  seemed  disposed  to 
rush  at  the  chidos, 

I  had  now  seen  enough,  and  left  the  place  amidst  the 
thunders  of  applause  which  the  creature's  fall  drew  from  the 
crowd.  I  heard  that  afterwards  three  more  bulls  and  six 
horses  were  killed,  and  that  an  addition  had  been  made  to 
the  usual  entertainments  of  the  plaza,  with  which  the  people 


108  MEN     TOSSED     IN     THE     AIR. 

were  not  well  pleased.  A  class  of  combatants  appeared, 
called  pegadores,  who  literally  took  the  bull  by  the  horns,  al- 
lowing him  to  toss  them  in  the  air,  and  one  of  them  was 
much  hurt  by  his  fall.  "It  is  a  Portuguese  innovation,"  said 
my  friend  Don  Pedro,  rather  innocently,  as  it  seemed  to  me, 
"  and  it  is  a  horrible  sight  for  us  Spaniards.  We  do  not 
like  to  see  a  man  tossed  like  a  dog." 

I  hoped  in  this  letter  to  give  some  account  of  my  journey 
from  Burgos  to  Madrid,  which  was  not  uninteresting,  though 
neither  exactly  pleasant  nor  comfortable;  but  my  letter  is 
already  too  long.  I  am  pained  to  hear  such  bad  news  from 
the  United  States — such  accounts  of  embarrassments  and 
failures,  of  sudden  poverty  falling  on  the  opulent,  and  thou- 
sands left  destitute  of  employment,  and  perhaps  of  bread. 
This  is  one  of  the  epidemic  visitations  against  which,  I  fear, 
no  human  prudence  can  provide,  so  far,  at  least,  as  to  pre- 
vent their  recurrence  at  longer  or  shorter  intervals,  any  more 
than  it  can  prevent  the  scarlet  fever  or  the  cholera.  A  money 
market  always  in  perfect  health  and  soundness  would  imply 
infallible  wisdom  in  those  who  conduct  its  operations.  I 
hope  to  hear  news  of  a  better  state  of  things  before  I  write 
again. 


COURTS     OF     JUSTICE.  109 


LETTEE    XI. 

A    JOURNEY     FROM     BURGOS     TO     MADRID. 

Madrid,  November  5,  1857. 

While  at  Burgos,  I  was  taken  to  the  Audiencia,  as  the 
principal  court  is  called,  in  which  justice  is  administered. 
In  one  room  were  three  judges  in  black  caps  and  lace  ruffles 
about  the  wrist,  but  with  no  other  distinguishing  costume, 
and  before  them  a  clerk  and  another  officer  of  the  court  were 
sitting,  while  an  advocate,  perched  in  a  kind  of  tribune  by 
the  wall,  was  reading  a  manuscript  argument  in  a  monoto- 
nous tone.  There  were  no  auditors  except  those  of  our 
party,  and  this  I  did  not  wonder  at,  for  I  cannot  imagine 
any  thing  less  likely  to  awaken  curiosity  or  fix  attention. 
In  another  hall  were  three  judges,  and  a  person — the  escri- 
bano,  I  believe,  or  clerk — was  hurrying  through  a  law  paper, 
which  he  read  with  a  slovenly  articulation,  that  showed  it  to 
be  some  matter  of  form.  Of  course,  there  was  nothing  here 
to  detain  us  long. 

The  next  morning,  the  14th  of  October,  at  an  unreason- 
ably early  hour — ^if  the  truth  must  be  told,  it  was  two  o'clock, 
for  we  had  been  assured  that  we  could  not  otherwise  arrive 
at  Aranda  that  night,  and  there  was  no  endurable  stopping- 


110  A     NIGHT     JOURNEY. 

place  till  we  got  to  Aranda — we  left  our  quarters  at  the 
Fonda  de  las  Fostas  with  some  regret.  The  attentive  and 
cheerful  handmaidens  who  commonly  waited  upon  us,  Cata- 
lina  and  Juanita,  had  got  a  little  breakfast  ready  for  us.  I 
asked  Catalina,  a  stout,  round-faced  girl,  with  a  pair  of  what 
are  sometimes  called  butter-teeth,  and  who  spoke  Spanish 
with  some  peculiarities  of  pronunciation,  whether  she  was  a 
Castilian.  " No,"  she  replied,  "I  am  from  the  north  of 
Spain.  The  girls  in  this  house  are  all  Basques ;  the  mis- 
tress, though  she  is  a  Castilian,  will  have  no  other.  The 
Castilian  girls  are  dirty."  I  supposed  there  was  some  truth 
in  what  she  said  ;  my  subsequent  experience  confirmed  it. 

It  was  a  starlight  morning  when  we  left  Burgos  ;  the 
mules  ceased  to  trot  when  we  had  proceeded  a  little  beyond 
the  city  gate,  and  our  two  drivers  got  down  from  the  box 
and  walked  beside  them  in  silence.  We  had  the  same 
equipage  which  had  previously  conveyed  us  to  Las  Huelgas, 
but  both  coachmen  and  mules  seemed  to  have  lost  all  their 
spirit,  and  were  transformed  to  the  merest  plodders.  After 
we  had  proceeded  thus  for  about  an  hour,  the  moon  rose,  and 
showed  us  the  same  broad  extent  of  bare  plains  which  we  had 
seen  about  Burgos.  I  had  fallen  into  a  doze,  when  our  two 
cocheros,  having  again  mounted  the  box,  awoke  me  by  sing- 
ing. They  sang  together  a  long  Castilian  ballad,  of  which 
I  could  make  but  little ;  it  was  chanted  to  a  monotonous, 
melancholy  air,  with  harsh  and  somewhat  nasal  voices,  re- 
minding me  somewhat  of  the  sort  of  singing  I  had  heard 
from  the  Arabs  in  Egypt  and  Palestine.     As  we  were  slowly 


LERMA.  Ill 

climbing  a  hill,  two  men  came  from  the  road-side,  and  looked 
sharply  and  scrutinizingly  into  the  window  on  the  back  of 
our  carriage,  bringing  their  swarthy  faces  close  to  the  glass. 
The  coachmen  sang  for  about  an  hour,  and  then  the  principal 
one  began  to  crack  his  whip,  which  the  beasts  who  drew  us 
well  understood  to  mean  nothing,  and,  accordingly  paid  no 
attention  to  it. 

When  the  sun  rose,  we  found  ourselves  in  the  valley  of 
Lerma,  where  the  soil  looks  fertile,  and  where  the  Arlanza 
winds  among  soft  slopes,  which  would  be  beautiful  if  the 
country  had  any  verdm-e.  All  that  it  has,  belongs  to  a  few 
vineyards  on  sunny  declivities.  The  Duke  of  Lerma  makes 
a  conspicuous  figure  in  history,  and  the  name  suggests  ideas 
of  magnificence,  so  that  when  we  drew  near  to  the  wretched, 
decayed  old  town  w^hich  bears  it,  we  were  not  a  little  disap- 
pointed. It  had  a  ruined  look,  and  was  dreary,  though  the 
pleasantest  golden  sunshine  lay  upon  it.  Its  church,  former- 
ly a  collegiate  church,  has  not  been  damaged  by  time,  only 
a  thunderbolt  fell  upon  its  tower  a  few  months  since  and 
forced  its  three  bells  out  of  their  places.  Beyond  Lerma,  the 
country  became  again  the  brown,  dismal  region  which  we 
had  seen  further  back,  without  trees,  grass,  springs  or 
streams,  the  stubble-fields  and  tracts  fresh  from  the  plough 
only  diversified  by  wastes,  ragged  with  furze,  the  pale  foliage 
of  which  could  not  be  called  green. 

We  stopped  at  a  village  called  Quintanilla,  at  an  inn, 
consisting  of  stables  as  the  ground  floor,  and  dwelling  rooms 
above,  like  most  Spanish  inns ;  it  was  built  of  bricks  dried 


112  PEOPLE     ON     THE     ROAD. 

in  the  sun,  and  its  upper  floor  was  a  foot  higher  on  one  side 
than  on  the  other.  Near  at  hand  was  the  place  from  which 
the  building  materials  were  taken,  a  deep  pit  in  the  ground. 
A  tall,  grim,  slatternly  woman,  with  a  prodigiously  sharp 
voice,  gave  us  a  sort  of  breakfast  over-seasoned  with  garlic, 
but  made  tolerable  by  good  bread  and  plenty  of  grapes.  A 
dessert  in  Spain  is  as  much  a  part  of  the  breakfast  as  of  the 
dinner,  and  plates  of  fruit  always  conclude  the  early  meal. 

When  we  resumed  our  journey,  we  needed  not  to  be  told 
that  we  were  in  a  great  high  road  between  city  and  city,  for 
it  actually  swarmed  with  huge,  high-loaded  wagons,  drawn 
each  by  ten  or  a  dozen  mules  in  pairs,  heavy- wheeled  carts 
of  a  like  description,  trains  of  loaded  mules  with  their  sturdy 
guides,  and  peasant  men  and  women,  trudging  on  foot  or 
jogging  along  on  donkeys.  Among  these  were  a  comfortably 
dressed  man  and  woman,  carrying  a  child  between  them,  and 
keeping  their  donkeys  on  a  gentle  trot,  whom  w^e  passed 
regularly  every  day  of  our  journey,  and  who  must  have  got 
to  Madrid  nearly  as  soon  as  we.  At  Gumiel,  which  we 
passed  in  the  afternoon,  it  was  a  delight  to  the  eyes  to  see 
half  the  country  overspread  with  vineyards,  though  sallow 
with  the  season,  and  though  the  plants  were  low,  without 
stalk  or  prop,  and  almost  trailed  on  the  ground.  Here  we 
fell  in  with  large  parties  of  laboring  people,  of  both  sexes, , 
travelling  on  foot,  some  astonishingly  ragged  and  dirty,  and 
others  in  clothes  tolerably  whole  and  clean.  It  was  remark- 
able how  the  raggedest  and  dirtiest  herded  together.  They 
had  all  a  merry  look,  and  were  evidently  amused  at  some- 


ARANDA.  113 

thing  exotic  in  our  appearance,  for  they  pointed  us  out  to 
each  other,  laughing  and  chatting  in  what  was  doubtless 
very  good  Gastilian.  "  These  are  the  people  that  gather  the 
grapes  ;  it  is  the  time  of  the  vintage,"  said  one  of  our  coach- 
men. The  vintage,  in  fact,  is  a  joyous  time  in  all  countries, 
and  I  no  longer  wondered  that  these  ragged  people  wore 
such  bright  faces. 

A  little  before  nightfall  we  reached  Aranda,  and  stop- 
ping at  a  wretched  inn,  found  the  dirty  streets  of  that 
wretched  place  full  of  vintagers.  I  walked  out  among  these 
blinking  Castilians,  in  their  knee-breeches  and  velvet  caps, 
some  of  them  wrapped  in  great  brown  cloaks,  lounging  and 
gossiping  about.  The  old  pavement  of  the  town  had  been 
trodden  deep  into  the  earth,  and  was  covered  with  dust ;  a 
large,  long  building  of  much  pretension,  with  turrets,  proba- 
bly once  a  palace,  stood  unroofed,  and  moss  was  gathering 
on  the  broken  eaves.  Beyond  it  murmured  the  Duero,  flow- 
ing under  a  stately  bridge,  with  a  little  plantation  of  locust 
trees  on  the  opposite  bank;  but  just  before  I  reached  the 
Duero,  I  was  surrounded  by  an  atmosphere  which  decided 
me  to  proceed  no  further.  On  my  left,  close  to  the  road, 
was  a  little  enclosure  of  about  half  an  acre,  surrounded  by  a 
low,  broken  stone-wall,  which,  to  judge  by  its  appearance, 
was  a  place  of  universal  resort  for  the  people  of  Aranda.  If 
they  could  quote  Shakspeare,  it  seemed  to  me  that  there  was 
not  one  of  them  who  might  not  say  with  reference  to  that 
spot, 

"  Oh,  my  offence  is  rank ;  it  smells  to  heaven.'* 


114  A     DIRTY     TOWN     AND     INN. 

I  returned  to  our  inn,  and  was  almost  as  much  astonished  at 
what  I  saw  in  the  street  which  passed  under  its  back  win- 
dows. The  servant  women  of  the  house  had  their  faces  lit- 
erally plastered  with  dirt.  They  managed,  however,  to  put 
clean  sheets  on  our  beds,  and  to  give  us  a  quarter  of  roast 
lamb  and  some  bread  for  supper.  We  inquired  of  our  coach- 
man whether  there  was  not  a  better  inn  in  the  place,  but  he 
replied  that  they  were  all  alike,  which  we  afterwards  discov- 
ered was  false,  for  the  diligence  companies  have  established 
a  parador  in  the  place,  where  travellers  are  very  passably 
lodged. 

We  had  an  uncomfortable  time  that  night  with  the  fleas, 
which,  I  suppose,  swarmed  up  from  the  stables  below ;  and 
we  were  not  sorry  to  leave  our  beds  and  our  dirty  inn  with 
early  light.  We  got  down  stairs  by  stepping  over  the  bodies 
of  about  a  dozen  muleteers,  who,  wrapped  in  their  blankets, 
lay  snoring  on  the  floor  of  an  antechamber,  and  proceeded 
on  our  way  through  a  country  of  vineyards,  to  which  the  la- 
borers were  going  at  an  early  hour.  From  some  of  them  the 
fruit  had  already  been  gathered,  and  goats  were  let  in,  at- 
tended by  a  keeper,  to  browse  on  the  foliage.  In  others, 
they  were  collecting  the  clusters  into  enormous  baskets, 
which  were  to  be  carried  to  the  wine-press  on  the  backs  of 
mules  and  asses ;  the  animals  stood  by,  waiting  to  be 
loaded.  We  stopped  at  one  large  vineyard,  asked  for  some 
grapes,  which  were  given  us  with  full  hands,  and  the  people 
seemed  surprised  when  we  oflfered  to  pay  for  them. 

At  Boceguillas,  where  we  made    our  midday  halt,  we 


m 

EVERGREEN     OAKS.  115 

found  a  decent  inn,  and  were  waited  on  by  two  or  three  come- 
ly and  cleanly-looking  young  women,  with  whom  our  two 
drivers  seemed  on  very  friendly  terms.  A  few  hours'  drive 
afterwards  brought  us  to  what  we  were  glad  to  see,  a  grove 
of  scattered  evergreen  oaks,  rising,  with  their  dark  green 
dense  tops,  out  of  the  ash-colored  waste.  Fatigued  as  our 
eyes  were  with  looking  on  barren  earth  and  brown  rocks,  I 
can  hardly  describe  the  delight  with  which  we  gazed  on 
those  noble  trees,  close  to  some  of  which  we  passed.  This 
grove,  which  covers  several  hundred  acres,  had  doubtless 
been  spared  for  the  sake  of  its  fruit ;  for  it  is  this  oak  that 
produces  the  bellota,  the  sweet  acorn,  gathered  and  eaten 
raw  by  the  people  ;  in  Madrid  it  is  sold  at  almost  every  cor- 
ner of  the  streets. 

We  had  a  range  of  mountains  before  us,  and  were  rising 
at  every  step  into  a  chillier  atmosphere,  when  our  vehicle 
stopped  for  the  night  in  the  neighborhood  of  a  little  village, 
at  a  large,  dismal  building,  called  Venta  de  Juanilla^  or 
Jenny's  Tavern.  A  well-dressed  man,'  with  a  boy  by  his 
side,  was  standing  at  the  entrance,  and  as  we  alighted,  hur- 
ried into  the  house,  and  began  to  call  for  rooms.  Jenny 
was  not  at  home,  but  there  were  two  half- wild  servants  in 
the  house,  one  of  whom  was  remarkable  for  her  breadth  of 
chest,  resounding  voice,  and  bright,  round  eyes ;  and  these 
girls,  after  some  rummaging  for  keys,  got  rooms,  both  for  the 
gentleman's  party  and  our  own.  "We  could  get  nothing  to 
eat,  however,  till  Jenny  herself,  a  short,  dark-browed  woman, 
came  home  from  the  village  and  opened  her  pantry.     Our 


116  A     FAMILY     IN     A     CART. 

apartment  consisted  of  a  sort  of  sitting-room,  with  a  bare  tile 
floor,  and  was  scantily  lighted  by  four  panes  of  glass,  set  in 
the  wooden  shutters.  Into  this  sitting-room  opened  two 
dark  rooms,  called  alcoves,  in  each  of  which  were  two  beds. 
This  arrangement  of  sitting  and  sleeping-rooms  is  very  com- 
mon in  Spain,  south  of  the  Basque  provinces. 

The  party  who  had  preceded  us  in  getting  rooms,  consist- 
ed of  a  gentleman  and  his  wife,  who  were  fashionably  attired, 
with  two  children  and  two  maidservants.  They  were  trav- 
elling in  a  cart,  covered  with  an  awning  of  white  calico,  and 
drawn  by  two  mules.  They  had  resorted  to  this  method  of 
travelling,  because  it  was  not  possible,  at  this  time  of  the 
year,  to  obtain  seats  for  so  many  in  the  diligence  from 
Bayonne,  and  probably,  also,  because  it  was  less  expensive 
than  such  a  conveyance  as  our  own.  These  carts  are  a  sort 
of  moving  couch,  I  was  told;  the  bottom  is  covered  with 
mattress  upon  mattress,  and  the  passengers  travel  quite  lux- 
uriantly, though,  of  course,  very  slowly. 

The  covered  cart,  with  its  passengers,  set  out  before  us  the 
next  morning ;  and  at  five  we  came  from  our  gloomy  rooms, 
and  continued  the  ascent  of  the  mountain  range  which  di- 
vides Old  from  New  Castile.  Smooth  russet-colored  pastures 
sloped  on  each  side  to  the  road,  where  trickled  a  little  brook, 
which,  in  the  course  of  thousands  of  years,  had  worn  that  nar- 
row pass.  At  the  summit,  about  sunrise,  in  a  keen,  cold  at- 
mosphere, we  came  to  the  village  of  Somosierra,  seated 
among  rocks  and  mountain  hollows,  looking  almost  like  a 
little  nook  in  the  mountains  of  Switzerland,  with  rivulets 


A     SPANISH     VENTA.  Ill 

from  the  higher  summits  running  through  the  fields,  and 
keeping  them  green.  Hard  by  the  village  was  a  forest  of 
oaks,  and  there  were  thickets  growing  luxuriantly  by  the 
road  side. 

We  ran  down  the  mountain,  passing  our  friends  in  the 
covered  cart,  and  leaving  all  this  verdure  behind  us.  Our 
mid-day  rest  we  took  at  Buitrago,  a  small,  decayed  place, 
with  an  old  fortress,  once  doubtless  a  place  of  strength,  and 
two  churches,  each  of  which  bore  on  its  tower  a  large  stork's 
nest.  Our  stopping-place  was  a  venta  of  the  primitive  sort. 
A  young  girl  showed  us  a  room,  and  when  we  asked  for 
something  to  eat,  she  answered,  "  We  can  give  you  nothing 
here,  but  if  you  want  any  bread  or  fruit,  there  is  a  plaza  be- 
yond the  nearest  church,  where  you  can  buy  it."  We  had 
no  alternative  but  to  follow  her  suggestion  ;  we  got  some 
bread,  grapes  and  pomegranates,  and  made  a  frugal  repast 
in  our  carriage ;  the  two  coachmen  in  the  mean  time  had 
found  their  way  to  the  kitchen  fire,  and  had  managed  to  get 
up  for  themselves  a  banquet  of  stewed  meat  and  Windsor 
beans. 

While  the  mules  were  resting  and  feeding,  we  walked 
about  the  place.  A  little  without  the  town  I  met  with  a 
winding  row  of  granite  pillars,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  length 
or  more,  some  of  which  had  been  thrown  down  and  lay  on 
the  ground,  and  of  some  only  the  pedestals  remained.  At 
length  I  discovered  that  they  had  formerly  borne  stone 
crosses — one  or  two  supported  them  yet — and  that  the  series 
ended  at  the  portal  of  the  principal   church  of  Buitrago. 


118  A     BEAUTIFUL     SCENE. 

Here,  then,  in  former  years,  tlie  good  Catholics  must  have 
paid  their  devotions,  stopping  and  praying  at  the  foot  of  each 
cross,  in  turn  ;  until,  at  length,  in  some  of  the  wars  of  Spain, 
sacrilegious  hands  threw  them  down,  to  be  raised  no  more. 

Crossing  this  row  of  pillars  was  a  road  never  marked  with 
the  trace  of  wheels,  which  led  towards  the  Lozoya,  flowing  in 
a  rocky  glen.  We  were  surprised  at  the  beauty  of  the  scene 
which  lay  before  us,  and  sat  down  on  rocks  black  with  moss 
to  gaze  at  it.  In  front  of  us  ran  the  little  river,  in  which, 
further  up  the  current,  women  were  washing  linen  and  spread- 
ing it  on  the  bank.  Immediately  opposite  to  where  we  sat, 
rose  a  hill-side,  from  which  stood  forth  here  and  there  narrow 
perpendicular  precipices,  as  tall  as  the  churches  of  the  town, 
in  a  natural  park  of  large  evergreen  oaks,  and  willows  begin- 
ning to  turn  yellow  with  the  season.  A  little  to  the  right 
the  river  spread  into  a  still,  glassy  pool,  and  then  ran  off 
noisily,  over  sparkling  shallows,  through  a  gorge  of  rocks. 
Beside  us  was  a  hill  pasture,  on  which  was  a  flock  of  black 
and  white  sheep,  with  their  keeper,  which  seemed  literally  to 
hang  on  the  steep  where  they  fed.  As  we  were  walking 
about,  one  of  the  party  called  our  attention  to  a  powerful, 
aromatic  odor.  Looking  about  us,  we  discovered  that  almost 
every  plant  on  which  we  were  treading  had  the  odor  of  wild 
thyme  or  lavender.  They  were  of  the  dullest  possible  green, 
with  rigid  stems,  scantily  nourished  by  that  arid  soil,  but 
they  breathed  up  a  fragrance  at  every  step. 

On  the  way  back  to  our  carriage  we  had  a  less  pleasant 
sight ;  we  saw  what  becomes  at  last  of  the  donkeys  of  Buit- 


WHAT     BECOMES     OP     THE     DONKEYS.  119 

rago.  Just  out  of  the  streets  of  the  close-built  little  town 
one  of  these  poor  animals  lay  kicking  his  last,  and  not  far 
from  it,  in  a  little  hollow,  were  many  skeletons  of  others, 
some  of  them  bleached  white  by  the  weather,  and  others  clean 
picked,  but  still  red.  Two  dogs  were  among  them ;  the  foul 
feeders  slunk  away  when  they  saw  us.  We  crossed  the  road 
to  Madrid  ;  and  going  into  the  fields  on  the  side  opposite  to 
the  town,  overlooked  the  country  around  it.  All  was  silent ; 
all  seemed  at  first  lifeless,  and  without  human  habitations ; 
but  at  length  we  descried,  afar  off,  two  or  three  men  plough- 
ing with  oxen,  a  woman  on  a  donkey,  passing  along  one  of 
the  bridle  roads — the  cross-roads  are  all  of  that  description — 
a  little  village  almost  out  of  sight,  and  near  by,  in  the  bot- 
tom of  the  broad  valley,  what  had  been  once  a  convent,  and 
the  possessor,  probably,  of  much  of  the  land  we  overlooked. 
The  monastic  orders,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  sisterhoods 
of  nuns,  no  longer  exist  in  Spain ;  the  gowns  and  cowls, 
brown,  white  and  gray,  have  wholly  disappeared ;  and  the 
country  in  which  the  friars  were,  less  than  a  century  since, 
the  most  numerous,  is  now  the  last  place  in  which  to  look  for 
them. 

Eesuming  our  journey,  we  passed  through  a  valley  of 
meagre  pasturage,  where  a  brook  came  glistening  down  the 
rocky  mountains,  and  crossed  our  road.  Here  had  halted  a 
little  caravan  of  loaded  wagons  and  carts,  from  which  the 
mules  had  been  taken  to  rest  and  be  fed ;  and  here  a  group 
of  strapping  muleteers  lay  basking  in  the  sun.  As  we  went 
up  the  road,  by  which  we  were  to  pass  out  of  the  valley,  I 


120  STRANGE     ROCKS. 

saw  some  of  the  strangest  looking  rocks  I  ever  beheld — rocks 
without  angles  or  sharp  corners,  yet  lying  close  upon  each 
other  by  the  road  side,  and  looking  like  enormous  puddings 
or  sacks  of  meal  in  a  heap.  To  these  succeeded  pyramids  of 
rock,  overlooking  a  narrow  pass,  cracked  and  split  in  every 
direction,  so  that  the  whole  mountain  might  be  pried  into 
fragments  by  a  lever.  It  seemed  as  if  a  mighty  blow  had 
been  dealt  upon  the  huge  mass  of  stone,  shivering  it  into 
splinters  down  to  its  very  base,  and  yet  not  displacing  a  sin- 
gle part.  Our  road  led  us  from  the  pass  into  a  plain,  where 
we  stopped  for  the  night  at  a  place  called  Cabanillas.  A 
freckled,  light-haired  landlady,  of  extraordinary  activity,  who 
performed  the  parts  of  chambermaid,  waiter  and  directress  of 
the  kitchen,  gave  us  a  friendly  welcome,  a  passable  dinner, 
with  a  plentiful  dessert  of  fruit,  and  tolerable  beds,  in  two 
deep  alcoves  of  a  large  chamber,  the  floor  of  which  was  cov- 
ered with  matting.  The  genteel  family  who  were  travelling 
in  a  cart  arrived  half  an  hour  or  so  after  us,  and  had  the 
second  choice  of  rooms.  It  amazed  us,  after  what  we  had 
seen  of  the  deliberate  manner  in  which  things  are  done  in 
Spain,  to  see  our  landlady  flying  from  room  to  room,  and 
waiting  very  satisfactorily  on  all  her  guests  at  once. 

The  next  day  was  Saturday,  and  as  it  was  important  that 
I  should  arrive  seasonably  in  Madrid,  in  order  to  see  my 
banker,  we  took  a  start,  which  our  principal  coachman,  on 
whose  advice  we  acted,  called  tempranito,  a  little  early  or  so — 
that  is  to  say,  at  two  o'clock.  One  of  our  mules  was  out  of 
order,  and  had  been  left  behind  j  another  w^s  that  morning 


MAMBEINO'S     HELMET.  121 

hired  in  his  place,  to  drag  us  up  a  long  ascent,  and  a  man 
was  taken  on  the  box  to  lead  the  animal  back.  It  was  won- 
derful what  a  difference  the  hiring  of  this  mule  made  in  the 
speed  with  which  we  travelled.  Our  cocheras  seemed  deter- 
mined to  get  the  worth  of  their  money  out  of  him  in  the 
shortest  possible  time.  The  whip  was  plied  unmercifully ;  a 
storm  of  thwacks  fell  not  only  on  the  hired  beast  but  upon 
his  fellows  in  the  harness,  and  we  went  up  the  hill  in  a 
whirlwind.  After  an  hour  or  more  of  flogging  and  gallop- 
ing, we  came  to  where  the  road  began  to  descend,  the  hired 
mule  was  taken  out,  and  we  proceeded  at  the  same  plodding 
pace  as  on  the  day  before.  In  due  time  the  stars  fadeda  the 
sky  brightened,  and  we  found  ourselves  again  in  a  bare 
champaign  country,  destitute  of  trees  and  grass,  with  moun- 
tains in  sight  as  bare  as  the  plain. 

Our  morning  halt  was  at  Alcobendas,  at  a  large  inn  of  the 
primitive  sort,  chilly,  dreary  and  dirty,  with  ample  accommo- 
dations for  mules  and  scanty  accommodations  for  travellers. 
While  the  mules  were  resting  w^e  walked  about  the  town, 
which,  compared  with  some  places  seen  on  our  journey,  had 
an  air  of  neatness.  The  dust  had  been  swept  from  the  sides 
of  the  streets  into  the  middle,  and  looking  into  the  open 
doors  as  we  passed,  we  saw  that  the  stone  floors  of  the  shops, 
the  entrances  of  dwellings  and  the  courts  had  undergone  a 
like  process.  It  was  encouraging  to  meet  with  this  proof 
that  the  toleration  of  dirt  was  not  universal.  Before  one  of 
the  doors  swung  Mambrino's  helmet — a  barber's  basin  of 
glittering  brass,  with  the  owner's  name  and  the  addition 
6 


l%2  FIRST     SIGHT     OP     MADRID. 

^^profesor  de  cirurjia  y  crnnadron  " — "  professor  of  surgery  and 
midwife."  "These  men,"  said  a  Spanish  gentleman  of 
whom  I  afterwards  asked  an  explanation,  "are  licensed  to 
bleed,  and  therefore  assume  the  title  of  professors  of  surgery. 
In  the  villages,  if  you  Avish  to  be  in  good  company,  you  must 
cultivate  the  acquaintance  of  the  barber  and  the  curate." 

From  Alcobendas,  a  weary  road,  without  any  habitations 
in  sight,  led  us  to  the  poor-looking  town  of  Fuencarreal ;  and 
beyond  Fuencarreal  an  expanse  equally  dreary  and  deserted 
lay  before  us.  Yet  the  road  was  planted  on  each  side  with 
rows  of  young  trees,  among  which  were  conspicuous  two 
American  species — the  locust  and  the  three-thorned  acacia ; 
and  here  and  there,  by  the  road  side,  were  nurseries,  from 
w^hich  these  and  the  poplar  were  supplied  to  the  highways. 
Eoads  apparently  never  mended,  and  meant  only  for  horse- 
men and  beasts  of  burden,  winded  away  in  various  directions 
from  the  great  macadamized  thoroughfare  on  which  we  were 
travelling.  At  length  Madrid,  with  its  spires  and  towers, 
appeared,  lying  in  w^hat  seemed  a  little  hollow  of  the  ash- 
colored  landscape.  Through  an  avenue  of  very  young  trees, 
we  reached  a  stately  gate,  where  a  sleek,  well-dressed  cus- 
tom-house officer  asked  us  if  we  had  brought  with  us  any  thing 
subject  to  duty,  and  being  answered  that  we  had  not,  said, 
that  he  would  not  order  our  baggage  to  be  taken  down,  but 
would  send  a  clerk  to  our  hotel  to  inspect  it. 

We  were  then  allowed  to  enter  Madrid,  and  were  struck 
with  its  lively,  cheerful  aspect,  and  its  thronged  streets.  We 
applied  for  lodgings  at  the  Cam  de  Cordero,  to  which  we  had 


HOTELS     OF     THE     CAPITAL.  12S 

been  recommended.  The  hostess,  who  is  commonly  called  La 
Biscay ina,  offered  us  two  sitting-rooms  with  alcoves,  inconve- 
niently small  for  our  party,  and  up  three  lofty  flights  of 
stairs,  but  showily  furnished,  for  thirty-two  dollars  a  day,  in- 
cluding board  at  the  common  table.  From  this  place  we 
drove  to  the  Calle  de  Alcalde  where,  in  the  Fonda  Peninsulares, 
kept  in  a  building  which  was  once  a  convent,  and  which 
even  now  had  not  a  single  woman  in  it  except  those  who 
were  guests,  we  obtained  rooms  at  a  somewhat  more  reasona- 
ble rate.  The  hotels  of  Madrid  have  the  reputation,  which  I 
believe  they  deserve,  of  being  the  dearest  in  Europe,  and  the 
worst  to  be  found  in  any  of  the  large  capitals.  As  soon  as 
our  baggage  was  brought  up  to  our  rooms,  a  respectable  look- 
ing man  from  the  custom-house  at  the  city  gates  made  his 
appearance,  and  after  eyeing  first  our  party,  and  then  our 
trunks,  declined  the  task  of  inspection,  and  wishing  us  a 
good  morning,  left  us  to  settle  ourselves  in  our  new  abode. 


124  MADRID.        ITS     GALLICISM. 


LETTEK  XII. 

THE     SPANISH     CAPITAL. 

Madrid,  November  15,  1857. 
I  OUGHT  not  to  quit  Madrid  without  saying  something  of 
the  great  capital  of  the  Spanish  monarchy,  the  Court,  as  they 
call  the  city ;  and  yet,  I  have  seen  too  little  to  speak  of  it  as 
I  could  wish.  The  outside  of  Madrid,  however,  I  have  seen, 
and  that  is  as  much  as  the  majority  of  travellers  at  the  pres- 
ent day  see  of  any  thing.  Yet  there  are  many  native  Span- 
iards who  tell  you  that  seeing  Madrid  is  not  seeing  Spain. 
"  Madrid,"  said  a  very  intelligent  person  of  this  class  to  me, 
"is  not  a  Spanish  city;  it  is  French — it  is  inhabited  by 
afrancesados,  people  who  take  pains  to  acquire  French  tastes, 
and  who  follow  French  fashions  and  modes  of  living.  Those 
who  form  the  court  speak  French,  and  when  they  use  the  lan- 
guage of  the  country,  disfigure  it  with  Gallicisms.  People  here 
read  French  books  and  fill  their  minds  with  French  ideas ;  our 
authors  of  novels  give  us  poor  imitations  of  Eugene  Sue ;  our 
writers  for  the  stage  translate  French  dramas.  From  France 
our  absolutists  import  their  theories  of  despotism,  and  our 
liberals  the  follies  of  socialism.  If  you  want  to  see  Spain, 
you  must  seek  it  in  the  provinces,  where  the  national  charac- 


THE     PRADO.  125 

ter  is  not  yet  lost ;  you  will  find  Spain  in  Andalusia,  in  Es- 
tremadura,  in  the  Asturias,  in  Galicia,  in  Biscay,  in  Aragon ; 
but  do  not  look  for  it  in  Madrid." 

Yet  it  is  not  fair  to  deny  to  Madrid  certain  characteristic 
peculiarities,  even  when  considered  in  this  point  of  view.  If 
it  be  French,  it  is  so  after  a  manner  of  its  own,  and  the  pre- 
vailing Gallicism  is  modified  by  the  national  temperament, 
by  old  institutions  and  traditions,  and  by  the  climate. 

One  of  the  first  places  we  were  taken  to  see  on  our  arri- 
val in  Madrid  was  the  Prado.  Here,  beyond  the  pavements 
and  yet  within  the  gates  of  the  capital,  is  a  spacious  pleasure- 
ground,  formed  into  long  alleys,  by  rows  of  trees,  extending 
north  and  south,  almost  out  of  sight.  In  the  midst,  between 
the  colossal  figures  of  white  marble  which  form  the  fountain 
of  Cybele  on  the  north,  to  those  of  the  fountain  of  Neptune 
in  the  other  direction,  is  an  area  of  ten  or  twelve  acres, 
beaten  as  hard  and  smooth  as  a  threshing-floor,  by  the  feet 
of  those  who  daily  frequent  it.  Into  this,  two  noble  streets, 
the  finest  in  Madrid,  widening  as  they  approach  it,  the  Calle 
de  Alcald  and  the  Calle  de  Atocha,  pour  every  afternoon  in 
fine  weather,  at  this  season,  a  dense  throng  of  the  well-dress- 
ed people  of  the  capital,  to  walk  up  and  down,  till  the  twi- 
light warns  them  home.  They  move  with  a  leisurely  pace 
from  the  lions  of  Cybele  to  the  sea-monsters  of  Neptune,  and 
then  turning,  measure  the  ground  over  again  and  again,  till 
the  proper  number  of  hours  is  consumed.  The  men  are  un- 
exceptionably  dressed,  with  nicely  brushed  hats,  glittering 
boots  and  fresh  gloves;  the  favorite  color  of  their  kids  is 


126  COSTUME     OF     THE     LADIES. 

yellow ;  the  ladies  are  mostly  in  black,  with  the  black  veil 
of  the  country  resting  on  their  shoulders;  they  wear  the 
broadest  possible  hoops,  and  skirts  that  trail  in  the  dust,  and 
they  move  with  a  certain  easy  dignity  which  is  thought  to 
be  peculiar  to  the  nation.  On  these  occasions,  a  dress  of  a 
light  color  is  a  singularity,  and  a  bonnet  attracts  observation. 
Close  to  the  walk  is  the  promenade  for  carriages,  which  pass 
slowly  over  the  ground,  up  one  side  and  down  the  other,  till 
those  who  sit  in  them  are  tired.  Here  are  to  be  seen  the 
showy  liveries  of  the  grandees  and  opulent  hidalgos  of  Spain, 
and  of  the  foreign  ambassadors.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the  place 
was  thronged  on  the  day  that  I  first  saw  it,  but  this  the  Span- 
ish gentleman  who  conducted  us  thither  absolutely  denied. 
"There  is  nobody  here,"  said  he,  "nobody  at  all.  The 
weather  is  chilly  and  the  sky  threatening ;  you  should  come 
in  fine  weather."  The  threat  of  the  sky  was  fulfilled  before 
we  could  get  home,  and  we  reached  the  do^  of  our  hotel  in 
a  torrent  of  rain. 

The  public  walk  is  one  of  the  social  institutions  of  the 
Spanish  towns ;  it  is  a  universal  polite  assembly,  to  which 
you  come  without  the  formality  of  an  invitation,  and  from 
which  nobody  is  excluded ;  all  are  welcome  under  the  same 
hospitable  roof,  the  sky.  Here  acquaintances  are  almost 
sure  to  meet ;  here  new  acquaintances  are  formed ;  here  the 
events  of  the  day  are  discussed — its  news,  politics  and  scan- 
dal ;  here  the  latest  fashions  are  exhibited ;  here  flirtations  are 
carried  on,  and  matches,  I  suppose,  made.  The  Spaniards 
everywhere  pass  a  great  deal  of  their  time  in  the  streets,  and 


SOCIAL     CUSTOMS.  127 

seem  to  have  no  idea  of  coming  together  to  eat  and  drink. 
When  you  have  a  letter  of  introduction  to  a  Spaniard,  he 
does  not  invite  you  to  dinner ;  but  when  he  tells  you  that 
his  house  is  yours,  he  means  to  give  you  free  access  to  it  at 
all  proper  hours.  I  can  testify  that  the  Spaniards  are  hos- 
pitable in  the  sense  of  giving  you  their  society,  and  making 
your  stay  in  their  country  pleasant,  though  it  is  not  their 
habit  to  feast  you.  They  place  you  on  the  common  footing 
of  Spanish  society,  except  that,  regarding  you  as  a  stranger, 
they  study  your  convenience  the  more. . 

Here  at  Madrid  they  live  upon  very  unceremonious  terms 
with  each  other,  dropping  in  at  each  other's  houses  in  the 
evening,  and  calling  each  other  by  their  christian  names, 
without  the  prefix  of  Don  or  Dona.  They  get  perhaps,  if 
any  thing,  a  cup  of  tea  or  chocolate,  and  a  hiscocho,  I  was 
several  times  at  the  house  of  a  literary  lady  of  Madrid,  and 
saw  there  some  of  the  most  eminent  men  of  Spain,  states- 
men, jurists,  ecclesiastics,  authors,  leaders  of  the  liberal  party 
and  chiefs  of  the  absolutists,  who  came  and  went,  with 
almost  as  little  ceremony  as  if  they  met  on  the  Prado.  The 
tertulia  is  something  more  than  this ;  there  is  more  dress, 
illumination,  numbers ;  but  the  refreshments  are  almost  as 
frugally  dispensed.  The  stranger  in  Spain  does  not  find 
himself  excluded  from  native  society,  as  he  does  in  Italy, 
but  is  at  once  introduced  to  it,  on  the  same  footing  with  the 
natives. 

I  find  one  objection,  however,  to  the  social  arrangements 
of  Madrid:  that  they  make  the  evenings  frightfully  long. 


128  LATE     HOURS     OF     THE     NOBILITY. 

People  begin  to  call  on  each  other  after  nine  o'clock,  and 
when  the  theatres  close,  between  eleven  and  twelve,  the 
number  of  calls  increases,  and  these  visitors  remain  till 
some  time  among  the  short  hours  beyond  midnight.  The 
example  of  turning  day  into  night  is  set  by  the  Court.  The 
Queen  does  not  dine  till  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and 
cannot  sleep  till  three  in  the  morning.  When  I  first  came 
to  Madrid,  I  used  almost  every  day,  a  little  after  sunset,  to 
hear  the  clattering  of  horses'  feet  on  the  pavement,  and  the 
cry  of  la  reina,  la  reina  !  and  looking  out  of  my  window,  saw 
three  showy  carriages  pass,  preceded  by  a  small  body  of  cav- 
alry with  drawn  swords,  and  followed  by  another.  It  was 
the  Queen,  taking  her  early  drive.  This  was  the  beginning 
of  the  day  with  her,  and  she  was  taking  the  morning  air  at  six 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  on  her  way  to  church.  As  the  days 
grew  shorter,  the  carriages  passed  after  the  lamps  were  lighted, 
j^ot  far  from  the  Prado,  and  just  without  the  city  waUs,  is 
the  amphitheatre  for  bull-fights,  the  favorite  amusement  of 
the  Spanish  people.  Here,  from  May  to  November,  they  are 
held  every  Monday  afternoon,  and  sometimes  on  Sundays. 
One  fine  Sunday  afternoon,  just  as  twilight  was  setting  in,  I 
heard  a  loud  clang  of  military  music,  and  the  tramp  of  many 
feet,  and  looking  out  of  my  window  on  the  Calle  de  Alcalde 
saw  a  large  body  of  soldiery  coming  along  the  middle  of  the 
street,  and  behind  and  on  each  side  of  them  a  vast  crowd, 
gentry  and  laborers  together,  amounting  to  thousands. 
They  were  just  returning  from  the  last  bull-fight  of  the  sea- 
son, which  had  been  postponed  from  one  week  to  another,  on 


THE     THEATRES.  129 

account  of  the  rainy  weather.  It  had  been  thronged,  as 
usual,  with  spectators.  I  inquired  why  there  were  no  bull- 
fights in  the  winter.  "  The  bulls  are  less  enterprising,"  was 
the  answer,  "  and  disappoint  the  people."  One  of  those  who 
are  in  the  habit  of  frequenting  these  spectacles,  said  to  me : 
"  These  animals  are,  in  fact,  wild  beasts ;  they  are  in  a  sav- 
age state  when  brought  from  the  extensive  pastures  in  the 
south  of  Spain,  where  they  have  scarcely  seen  the  face  of 
man,  and  have  never  learned  to  be  afraid  of  him  or  of  any 
thing  else.  The  cold  tames  them,  and  makes  them  inactive." 
It  is  wonderful  what  delight  even  people  who  seem  of  soft 
and  gentle  natures  take  in  this  horrid  sport. 

The  winter  amusement  of  the  people  of  Madrid  is  the 
stage.  There  are  nine  theatres  in  this  capital :  one  of  them, 
the  Teatro  del  Principe,  in  which  the  plays  of  Calderon  and 
Lope  de  Vega  were  performed  when  the  Spanish  drama  was 
in  its  glory,  and  another,  the  Teatro  Real,  one  of  the  finest  in 
all  Europe,  set  apart  for  the  Italian  opera.  The  present  con- 
dition of  the  stage  is  not  made  a  matter  of  pride  by  the 
Spanish  critics.  The  plays  represented  are  generally  taken 
at  second-hand  from  the  French,  though,  it  is  true,  freely 
altered.  One  theatre,  the  Zarzmla,  performs  only  Spanish 
vaudevilles,  which  also,  for  the  most  part,  are  of  French  deri- 
vation. A  considerable  part  of  the  scenic  entertainments  of 
Madrid  consists  in  the  national  dances — the  dances  of  Anda- 
lucia,  Valencia,  Galicia,  and  other  provinces,  each  performed 
in  the  costume  of  the  province  from  which  it  is  derived. 
Yet  there  is  no  want  of  talent  here  among  the  comic  actors. 


130  THE     PITEBTA     DEL     SOL. 

The  best  of  them,  at  least  the  most  famous,  are  to  be  seen  at 
the  theatre  called  El  Circo,  and  of  these,  the  person  most 
talked  of  now  is  a  lady,  Theodora  Madrid,  of  whom  it  is 
said  that,  eminent  as  she  is  already,  she  is  making  every  day 
some  progress  in  her  art.  Eomea,  of  the  other  sex,  who  ac- 
quired a  high  reputation  long  ago,  preserves  it  still.  There 
are  other  performers,  by  whom  these  are  ably  supported,  and 
who  need  only  to  be  seen  to  convince  one  that  humor  is  a 
special  ingredient  in  the  intellectual  character  of  the  Spanish 
people.  There  is  no  appearance  of  elaborateness  or  effort  in 
their  comic  acting;  nor  do  they  seek  to  produce  effect  by 
excessive  exaggeration.  It  is  not  claimed,  I  believe,  that 
Spain  has  now  any  eminent  tragedians. 

But  what  shall  the  idler  of  Madrid  do  with  his  mornings  ? 
Seven  streets,  if  I  have  counted  them  rightly,  converge  at 
the  Puerta  del  Sol,  which  tradition  says  was  once  the  eastern 
gate  of  the  city,  but  is  now  a  large  open  square  in  the  midst 
of  Madrid.  Here,  from  my  window,  I  see  at  every  hour  of 
the  day  a  crowd  of  loungers,  who  stand  and  talk  with  each 
other  in  couples  or  in  groups.  Sometimes  my  eye  rests  on 
one  who  is  standing  for  a  long  time  by  himself;  perhaps  he 
is  waiting  for  an  acquaintance ;  perhaps  this  is  his  way  of 
passing  time,  and  he  is  satisfied  with  simply  being  in  a  crowd, 
till  the  hour  arrives  in  which  he  is  to  go  elsewhere.  It  is  one 
characteristic  of  the  people  of  Madrid  that  they  do  not  gen- 
erally seem  overburdened  with  aflfairs.  Where  time  is  so 
cheap,  where  people' are  so  little  occupied  with  business  of 
their  own,  it  is  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world  that  they 


A     REVIVAL     OP     RELIGION.  131 

should  inquire  into  that  of  other  people ;  and  this  may  ac- 
count for  a  part  of  the  scandal  which  is  current  in  Madrid 
respecting  people  of  note  of  both  sexes,  and  much  of  which, 
I  suppose,  cannot  be  true. 

While  the  men  gossip  at  the  Puerta  del  Sol,  the  women 
see  each  other  in  the  churches.  I  am  afraid  that  religion  in 
Spain  is  beginning  to  be  considered  as  principally  an  affair 
of  the  women.  Just  now,  however,  there  is  something  like 
a  revival  of  religion  in  Madrid.  The  other  day,  as  we  were 
walking  on  the  Calle  de  Atocha,  we  saw  numbers  of  women, 
dressed  in  black,  the  invariable  costume  when  they  pay  their 
devotions,  going  into  a  large  church:  it  was,  I  think,  the 
church  of  San  Isidro.  We  were  about  to  enter  also,  but  I 
was  stopped,  while  the  ladies  of  my  party  were  admitted  by 
a  man  who  told  me  that  this  was  a  special  occasion,  on  which 
men  were  not  allowed  to  be  present.  It  was  then  near  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon ;  the  windows  of  the  church,  as  I 
afterwards  learned,  were  darkened,  and  it  was  full  of  female 
worshippers,  kneeling  with  their  faces  turned  towards  an  illu- 
minated figure  of  Christ.  That  afternoon  the  Archbishop  of 
Cuba,  who  is  on  a  visit  to  Spain,  was  to  preach.  A  series 
of  discourses  delivered  by  him  to  the  men,  which  I  am  told  were 
attended  by  crowded  audiences,  had  closed  a  few  days  before, 
and  he  was  now  in  the  midst  of  his  sermons  to  the  women.  A 
lady  who  attended  these  daily,  said  to  me :  *'  He  preaches 
with  great  plainness  and  simplicity,  and  his  words  take  hold 
of  the  heart.  It  is  not  by  any  of  the  tricks  of  oratory  that 
he  produces  an  effect ;  he  awakens  emotions  of  contrition  by 


132  GALIANO. 

earnest  addresses  to  the  conscience.  He  is  bringing  the  com- 
munity, a  part  of  it  at  least,  to  a  sense  of  its  errors  and  its 
duties,  and  in  this  way  is  doing  much  good.  The  Queen  has 
lately  appointed  him  her  confessor,  though  he  would  gladly 
have  declined  the  oflSce." 

The  task  of  confessing  the  Queen,  I  am  afraid,  the  good 
man  will  find  a  little  troublesome.  She  is  very  devout,  as 
her  daily  visits  to  the  churches  testify,  and  the  rumor  goes 
that  she  is  very  dissolute.  It  is  easier  to  preach  twice  a  day, 
and  occasionally  two  hours  at  a  time,  as  the  Archbishop  of 
Cuba  is  doing,  than  to  manage  a  royal  penitent  of  this  sort. 

Since  Spain  has  the  electric  telegraph,  and  is  beginning 
to  build  railways,  it  would  be  strange  if  she  had  no  public 
lectures.  She  possesses  one  public  lecturer  of  great  eminence. 
The  other  evening  I  was  at  the  house  of  an  acquaintance  in 
Madrid,  when  a  gentleman,  eminent  as  an  advocate  and  as 
a  writer  for  the  journals,  came  in  from  attending  an  evening- 
lecture  of  Galiano.  Galiano  is  a  politician  of  that  school,  in 
Spain,  who  desire  to  keep  things  as  they  are,  if,  in  fact,  they 
would  not  rather  put  them  back  to  where  they  were  at  the 
end  of  the  last  century.  The  gentleman  of  whom  I  speak 
was  expressing  himself  in  the  most  enthusiastic  terms  of 
Galiano's  elocution — "You  should  hear  what  he  says,"  said 
the  lady  of  the  house  turning  to  me;  "he  is  praising  a  po- 
litical adversary."  She  then  inquired  of  her  friend,  what 
was  the  subject  of  the  discourse.  "It  was  the  social  and 
political  condition  of  England."  "  And  how  did  he  speak?" 
'^  Divinamente !  divinamente!  the  audience  were  carried  away 


THE     EOYAL     MUSEUM.  133 

with  the  charm  of  his  oratory.  Seventy  years  old  is  Galiano, 
seventy  years  or  more,  and  yet  he  has  lost  nothing  of  the 
beauty  of  his  voice,  or  of  his  power  over  the  attention  and 
feelings  of  his  hearers.  Such  melodious  and  magnificent 
tones  and  cadences,  such  glorious  periods,  such  skill  in 
lifting  up  an  audience  and  letting  it  down,  belong  to  no 
other  man  than  Galiano."  "And  how,"  I  ventured  to  ask, 
"would  his  discourse  read  if  written  down?"  "You  could 
not  read  it  at  all,"  was  the  answer.  "The  style  has  neither 
grace  nor  life ;  it  is  neither  Spanish  nor  any  thing  else ;  the 
thoughts  are  utterly  trite  and  commonplace ;  it  would  tire 
you  to  death.  And  yet,  into  this  dead  mass  Galiano  breathes 
a  living  soul,  by  his  magical  elocution."  I  have  had  no 
opportunity  of  judging  for  myself  whether  the  severity  of 
this  criticism  is  deserved. 

The  great  collection  of  works  of  art,  which  goes  by  the 
name  of  the  Koyal  Museum  of  Painting  and  Sculpture,  and 
is  contained  in  a  large  building,  rising  above  the  trees  of 
the  Prado,  is  one  of  the  first  things  which  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  a  stranger.  You  will  not,  of  course,  expect  me  to 
describe  a  collection  which  contains  two  thousand  paintings, 
hundreds  of  them  standing  in  the  highest  rank  of  merit,  and 
which  comprises  pictures  of  every  school  that  existed  when 
the  art  was  in  its  greatest  perfection.  At  the  very  first  sight 
of  it,  I  could  hardly  help  assenting  to  the  judgment  of  those 
who  call  it  the  finest  gallery  of  paintings  in  the  world.  The 
multitude  of  pictures  by  the  greatest  masters  the  world  has 
produced,  amazed  me  at  first,  and  then  bewildered  me.     I 


134  EICHNESS     OF     THE     COLLECTION. 

was  intoxicated  by  the  spectacle,  as  men  sometimes  are  by 
sudden  good  fortune ;  I  wanted  to  enjoy  all  this  wealth  of  art 
at  once,  and  roamed  from  hall  to  hall,  throwing  my  eyes  on  one 
great  masterpiece  after  another,  without  the  power  of  fixing 
my  attention  on  any.  It  was  not  till  after  two  or  three  vis- 
its, that  I  could  soberly  and  steadily  address  myself  to  the 
contemplation  of  the  nobler  works  in  the  collection. 

It  is  the  boast  of  the  Museum  at  Madrid,  that  not  only 
are  all  the  other  great  schools  of  art  largely  represented  on 
its  walls,  but  it  possesses  a  most  ample  collection  of  the 
works  of  the  Spanish  masters,  who,  in  their  day,  maintained 
an  honorable  rivalry  with  their  brethren  of  Italy,  and  whose 
full  merit  cannot  be  known  to  those  who  have  never  visited 
Spain.  The  place  is  made  glorious  with  the  works  of  the 
gentle  and  genial  Murillo,  whose  best  productions,  spiritual 
without  being  highly  intellectual,  and  therefore  not  reaching 
the  highest  dignity,  like  those  of  Kaphael,  have  yet  a  beauty 
of  coloring  which  Eaphael  never  attained.  There  are  sixty- 
four  paintings  by  Velasquez,  fifty-eight  by  Kibera,  eighteen 
by  Juanes,  fourteen  by  Zubarran,  and  eighty  by  Alonzo 
Cano.  I  was  astonished,  after  this,  to  find  the  walls  of  one 
long  room  almost  covered  with  the  works  of  Eubens,  sixty- 
two  in  number,  some  of  them  in  his  noblest  style,  and  others 
in  his  more  vulgar  and  sprawling  manner.  In  another  quar- 
ter, I  was  lost  among  the  Titians,  for  Titian  dwelt  and 
painted  year  after  year  at  the  Court  of  Spain.  Paul  Ve- 
ronese is  here  in  a  magnificence  almost  equal  to  that  in 
which  he  appears  at  Venice.     Here,  too,  are  some  very  fine 


EL     PASMO     DE     SICILIA.  135 

Guides  among  the  sixteen  paintings  which  bear  his  name. 
There  are  ten  pictures  by  Eaphael,  in  his  different  styles, 
and  among  them  is  the  one  called  El  pasmo  de  Sicilia,  which 
is  deemed  the  pride  of  the  Museum.  It  represents  the 
Saviour  sinking  under  the  weight  of  his  Cross,  while  near 
him,  several  women,  agitated  with  pity,  are  starting  forward 
involuntarily  to  his  relief.  The  painter  has  chosen  the  mo- 
ment at  which  Christ  uttered  the  words :  "  Daughters  of 
Jerusalem,  weep  not  for  me,"  &c.  The  action  and  expres- 
sion of  the  picture  are  marvellously  fine,  but  the  coloring  is 
most  extraordinary ;  a  hot,  red  glare  lies  on  the  figures,  like 
the  light  from  a  furnace ;  the  picture  must  have  been  re- 
paired by  some  injudicious  hand.  Vandyck  has  twenty- two 
pictures  in  the  Museum,  some  of  them  very  noble  ones,  and 
of  Teniers  there  were  more  than  I  had  patience  to  count, 
large  and  small;  some  of  them  were  his  attempts  in  the 
heroic  style,  and  ludicrous  enough.  Several  of  the  finest 
landscapes  of  Claude  Loraine  are  in  this  Museum. 

A  small  part  of  one  of  the  halls  is  occupied  with  Spanish 
pictures  of  the  present  day,  which  seem  as  if  placed  there  on 
purpose  to  heighten,  by  the  effect  of  contrast,  the  spectator's 
admiration  for  the  works  of  the  past  ages.  They  look  like 
bad  French  pictures,  painted  in  the  time  of  David,  though 
among  them  are  two  or  three  respectable  portraits.  I  won- 
der how,  with  such  examples  before  them  as  the  Museum  con- 
tains, any  artist  could  suffer  himself  to  paint  in  this  manner. 
Of  landscapes  by  Spanish  painters,  I  do  not  recollect  one  in 
all  the  Museum,  though  the  landscape  parts  of  some  of  Mu- 


ISt  MODERN     SPANISH     PAINTINGS. 

rillo's  pictures,  seem  to  me  to  have  all  the  grace  and  free- 
dom of  his  figures.  There  is  a  Spanish  landscape  painter, 
however,  Villamil,  whose  works  I  have  heard  commended ; 
but  an  American  gentleman  told  me  the  other  day,  that 
they  were  not  such  as  he  would  care  to  bring  home  with 
him.  There  is  no  wonder  that  there  should  be  so  little 
landscape  painting,  where  there  is  so  little  country  life,  as 
in  Spain. 

I  have  not  yet  said  all  that  I  have  to  say  of  Madrid,  but 
the  letter  is  already  so  long,  that  I  shall  reserve  the  remain- 
der for  another. 


ENGRAVING     IN     SPAIN.  137 


LETTER  XIII. 


THE     SPANISH     CAPITAL 


Madrid,  November  17,  1857. 
My  last  letter  concluded  with  a  word  or  two  on  the  pres- 
ent state  of  the  fine  arts  in  Spain.  On  painting  and  sculp- 
ture there  waits  a  handmaid  art,  engraving,  which  invaria- 
bly flourishes  where  they  flourish ;  in  Spain  it  has  scarcely 
an  existence.  The  glorious  works  in  the  Museum  are  en- 
graved by  Frenchmen.  In  passing  along  the  streets,  I  have 
sometimes  been  stopped  by  the  sight  of  an  engraving  of  a 
Murillo  or  a  Velasquez,  exposed  in  the  windows,  and  read 
under  it,  "  published  by  Goupil,  in  Paris  and  New  York." 
Yet  Spain  has,  at  this  moment,  an  eminent  engraver,  Mar- 
tinez, whose  engraving  of  one  of  Murillo's  most  beautiful 
things,  "  The  Dream,"  I  saw  in  the  house  of  Mr.  Calderon 
de  la  Barca,  late  ambassador  from  Spain  to  the  United 
States.  By  him  I  was  kindly  taken  to  the  studio  of  the 
artist,  a  modest,  laborious  young  man,  who  in  almost  any 
other  coimtry  would  have  a  career  of  improvement,  fame,  and 
fortune  open  before  him.  He  was  engaged  in  engraving 
MurHlo's  counterpart  to  "  The  Dream,"  which  may  be  called 
".The  Fulfilment,"  and  had  almost  finished  his  task;  but 


138  MEDRAZA'S     COLLECTION. 

when  it  should  be  completed,  he  would  lack  money  to  go  to 
Paris  and  get  it  printed,  and  in  Madrid  the  means  of  taking 
good  impressions  of  steel  and  copper  plates  are  wholly  want- 
ing. The  Queen  of  Spain  had  seen  and  admired  his  en- 
graving of  "  The  Dream,"  and  had  commanded  him  to  en- 
grave "  The  Fulfilment ; "  the  artist  obeyed,  but  the  Queen 
had  forgotten  both  the  artist  and  the  task  she  set  him.  On 
the  wall  of  his  studio  hung  a  proof  impression  of  the  portrait 
of  a  good-humored  looking  little  girl.  "It  is  the  portrait 
of  the  Queen  in  her  childhood,"  said  the  artist,  "  and  was  en- 
graved at  her  express  desire."  That,  I  thought,  might  be 
remembered ;  but  even  that  the  Queen  had  forgotten. 

There  are  some  very  fine  private  galleries  of  paintings  in 
Madrid,  to  none  of  which  have  I  asked  admittance ;  for  I 
have  not  had  time  to  see  even  the  Museum  as  I  could  wish. 
Among  these  the  most  remarkable  is,  perhaps,  that  of  the 
elder  Medraza,  a  painter,  who  in  the  course  of  a  long  life  has 
got  together,  I  am  told,  a  princely  gallery  of  paintings,  the 
estrays  of  art,  single  works  of  great  merit  once  owned  by 
decayed  families  and  others,  which  by  some  accident  had 
dropped  out  of  large  collections.  I  have  heard  its  value 
estimated  at  a  quarter  of  a  million  of  dollars,  and  am  told 
that  it  contains  many  works  of  the  very  highest  merit.  The 
veteran  artist  now  wishes  to  dispose  of  it,  with  a  view  of 
providing  for  his  children,  but  he  declines  all  offers  for  any 
of  the  pictures  separately.  If  there  be  any  institution  in 
America — as  I  suppose,  in  fact,  there  is  not — which  desires 
to  possess  a  collection  of  paintings  rivalling   the  National 


A     DOCTOR     OF     LAWS     MADE.  139 

Gallery  of  Great  Britain,  the  Vernon  pictures  included,  here 
is  an  opportunity. 

Yet,  if  old  arts  have  passed  away,  old  usages  remain — 
picturesque  usages  of  the  times  when  Spagnoletto  and  Alonzo 
Cano  held  the  brush  in  their  living  hands.  In  our  country 
when  we  make  a  Doctor  of  Laws  or  of  Divinity,  the  ceremony 
is  very  simple — a  few  Latin  words  are  mumbled,  and  a 
parchment  scroll  is  handed,  or  sent  by  mail,  to  the  candi- 
date, and  the  thing  is  done ;  but  in  Spain  the  occasion  is  not 
allowed  to  pass  so  lightly.  I  was  taken  the  other  day,  by  a 
Spanish  friend,  to  the  University,  to  see  the  degree  of  Doctor 
of  Philosophy  conferred.  The  ceremony  took  place  in  a 
large,  lofty  hall,  hung  with  crimson,  on  the  entablatures  of 
which  were  portraits  of  the  eminent  authors  and  men  of 
science  whom  Spain  has  produced.  At  the  further  end  of  the 
hall  was  a  raised  platform,  on  which  were  seated  the  officers 
of  the  University,  at  a  sort  of  desk,  and  in  front  of  them,  on 
benches  on  each  side,  the  doctors  of  the  diflferent  sciences,  in 
their  peculiar  costume.  All  wore  ample  black  gowns,  but 
they  were  distinguished  from  each  other  by  their  caps  and 
the  broad  capes  on  their  shoulders,  both  of  which  were  of 
lustrous  silks.  The  capes  and  caps  of  the  doctors  of  theology 
were  white,  those  of  the  doctors  of  philosophy  blue,  the  men 
of  the  law  flamed  in  red,  the  men  of  medicine  glistened  in 
yellow,  the  doctors  of  pharmacy  glowed  in  purple.  On  each 
side  of  the  presiding  officer  stood  a  macer,  in  black  gown 
and  cap,  bearing  his  massive  club  of  office,  and  on  the  front 
edge  of  the  platform,  looking  down  upon  the  audience,  stood 


140         ADDRESS     OF     A     SPANISH     PROFESSOR. 

two  janitors,  dressed  in  the  same  manner,  but  with  black 
plumes  nodding  in  their  caps.  After  a  strain  of  music,  a 
young  man,  sitting  on  a  front  bench  on  the  right  side  of  the 
platform,  and  dressed  in  the  costume  of  a  doctor  of  philoso- 
phy, turned  his  face  to  the  presiding  officer,  and  began  to 
speak,  "It  is  Emilio  Castelar,"  said  my  Spanish  friend ; 
"  he  is  one  of  the  professors  of  philosophy,  gran  democrata,  y 
muy  elocuente — he  is  not  more  than  twenty-four  years  old, 
and  yet  he  is  a  great  advocate."  I  observed  the  young  man 
more  narrowly;  he  had  a  round  youthful  face,  jet  black 
mustaches,  and  a  bald  forehead ;  he  gesticulated  with  Span- 
ish vivacity,  in  yellow  kid  gloves.  I  was  not  near  enough 
to  hear  very  well  what  he  said,  but  his  discourse,  delivered 
in  earnest,  impressive  tones,  seemed  to  take  a  strong  hold  of 
the  audience,  for  they  leaned  forward  with  deep  attention, 
and  at  the  pauses  I  could  hear  the  murmur  of  "Muy  hien  ! 
muy  hkn  dkho  T"* 

When  he  had  concluded,  a  strong  built  man,  who  had 
been  sitting  on  the  same  seat,  arrayed  in  a  black  gown  with 
a  blue  silk  cape,  but  without  a  cap,  arose  amidst  a  flourish 
of  music,  and  was  conducted  by  the  steward,  who  was  dressed 
like  the  janitors,  except  that  he  wore  white  plumes  in  his 
cap,  to  a  sort  of  rostrum  projecting  from  the  wall,  into 
which  he  ascended  and  read  a  printed  discourse  prepared  for 
the  occasion.  This  was  the  candidate  for  the  degree  to  be 
conferred.  When  his  discourse  was  finished,  he  was  led  up 
to  the  officers  of  the  University,  before  whom  he  knelt,  and 
placing  his  right  hand  on  the  leaves  of  a  large,  open  folio, 


THE     FEAST     OF     ALL     SAINTS.  141 

took  the  oath  of  his  doctorate.  A  jewel  was  then  put  into 
his  hands,  and  the  steward  and  janitors  brought  from  an- 
other room  his  doctor's  cap,  with  a  sword  and  a  pair  of 
gauntlets,  reposing  on  a  bhie  silk  cushion,  which  were  pre- 
sented to  him  as  emblems  of  the  duty  now  devolving  upon 
him  as  the  sworn  soldier  of  the  truth.  Amidst  a  burst  of 
triumphant  music,  the  presiding  officer  then  threw  his  arms 
around  his  new  associate  ;  the  other  oflScers  embraced  him  in 
their  turn  ;  he  was  then  conducted  through  the  rows  of  seats 
on  the  platform,  to  be  hugged  successively  by  all  the  doc- 
tors, red,  white,  blue,  yellow,  and  purple.  At  the  close  of 
these  embracings,  the  steward  suddenly  struck  the  floor 
smartly  with  the  end  of  his  massive  truncheon,  the  music 
ceased,  a  few  words  were  uttered  by  the  presiding  officer,  and 
the  session  was  dissolved.  It  seemed  to  me  that  in  the  in- 
terval which  had  passed  since  I  entered  that  hall,  I  had  been 
favored  with  a  glimpse  of  the  middle  ages. 

This  was  shortly  before  the  feast  of  All  Saints,  in  which 
the  people  of  Madrid  repair  to  the  sepulchres  of  their  kin- 
dred and  friends,  to  deck  them  with  flowers.  The  day  before, 
all  the  autumnal  roses  are  cropped,  the  dahlias,  marigolds 
and  china-asters  broken  from  their  stems,  the  beds  of  verbena 
and  heliotrope  rifled,  and  massive  wreaths  of  the  dry  flowers 
of  gnaphalium^  or  everlasting,  made  up,  with  little  inscrip- 
tions expressive  of  affection  and  sorrow,  formed  by  the  same 
flower  dyed  black.  On  the  morning  of  the  first  of  November, 
a  rainy  morning,  cabs  and  carriages,  the  tops  of  which  were 
gay  with  baskets  of  flowers,  were  passing  each  other  in  the 


\ 


142  BURIAL     PLACES. 

street,  on  their  way  to  the  cemeteries.  In  the  afternoon, 
the  clouds  opening  to  let  down  a  gleam  of  sunshine,  I  went  out 
to  two  of  these  burial  grounds,  lying  just  without  the  walls,  to 
the  north  of  Madrid.  They  are  large  enclosures,  laid  out  in 
formal  walks,  planted  with  shrubs  and  flowers,  and  surround- 
ed with  a  wall  from  fifteen  to  eighteen  feet  high,  and  as 
thick  as  the  wall  of  a  fort,  with  a  broad  portico  in  front,  ex- 
tending its  entire  length.  This  wall  is  the  place  of  sepul- 
ture ;  it  is  pierced  with  five  rows  of  cells  or  niches,  one  above 
the  other,  into  which  the  coffins  are  shoved  endwise,  and  the 
openings  are  then  closed  with  tablets,  inscribed  with  epitaphs. 
All  along  the  portico,  before  these  repositories  of  the  dead, 
row^s  of  large  waxen  tapers  were  burning,  and  the  tablets 
were  wreathed  with  every  flower  of  the  season.  Servants  were 
employed  to  watch  the  tapers,  who  trimmed  them  occasionally, 
and  as  they  flared  in  the  wind,  gathered  the  wax  that  drop- 
ped from  them,  frugally  made  it  into  balls,  and  laid  it  by. 
People  were  sauntering  from  tomb  to  tomb,  and  a  bell  from  a 
little  chapel  in  the  wall  was  giving  out  a  hard,  sharp,  monoto- 
nous toll.  A  few  persons  passed  into  the  chapel,  and  paid 
their  devotions. 

The  affectionate  remembrance  of  the  dead  is  beautiful  in 
any  shape  which  it  takes.  And  yet  I  could  not  help  saying  to 
myself,  as  I  looked  at  all  this  :  What  a  different  sight  will  be 
here,  when  Time,  as  at  length  he  must,  shall  cause  this  sepul- 
chral wall  to  crumble  in  pieces !  What  rows  of  grinning  skel- 
etons will  then  be  turned  out  to  the  air  !  The  sleep  of  the  dead 
in  the  bosom  of  earth  is  safer  from  such  ghastly  profanation. 


RESERVOIR     AND     AQUEDUCT.  143 

Near  these  cemeteries  I  visited,  in  company  with  a  Span- 
ish friend,  the  reservoir  which  is  to  receive  the  waters  of 
the  Lozoya,  the  brawling  stream  at  which,  as  I  have  re- 
lated in  a  previous  letter,  we  saw  the  women  rinsing  their 
clothes  near  Boceguillas.  The  Lozoya  is  to  be  brought  into 
the  city  by  an  aqueduct  about  twelve  Spanish  leagues  in 
length,  or  forty  miles,  at  an  expense  of  four  or  ^ve  millions 
of  dollars.  "  They  will  do  the  work  well,"  said  an  American 
gentleman  to  whom  I  was  speaking  on  this  subject,  "  for  the 
Spaniards  are  good  masons,  and  build  for  many  years." 
Huge  iron  pipes  lay  scattered  about,  in  which  the  hitherto 
free  stream  of  the  Lozoya  is  to  be  imprisoned.  We  climbed 
a  few  feet  to  the  top  of  the  reservior,  and  then  descended 
into  it.  We  found  it  to  consist  of  two  spacious  and  lofty 
chambers,  separated  from  each  other  by  a  thick  wall ;  the 
floor  is  of  water-lime,  and  the  long  rows  of  massive  brick 
pillars  that  support  the  roof  are  plastered  with  water-lime 
also.  The  work  is  carried  on  steadily,  and  in  about  two 
years'  time,  I  am  told,  for  they  do  not  hurry  these  things  in 
Spain,  the  Lozoya  will  run  in  veins  through  the  streets  of 
Madrid.  In  several  of  the  principal  streets  they  are  now  en- 
gaged in  making  passages  for  it.  The  pavements  are  not 
taken  up  as  is  done  with  us ;  but  a  shaft  is  sunk  at  some  con- 
v.enient  point,  and  from  this  the  engineers  and  laborers  work 
like  moles  under  ground,  mining  the  streets  lengthwise  in 
the  two  opposite  directions.  When  the  work  is  completed, 
Madrid  will  have  an  aqueduct  rivalling  that  of  our  Croton, 
.jAough  I  doubt  whether  the  Lozoya  will  bring  in  half  the  water. 


I 


144  NEWSPAPERS     OP     MADRID. 

As  we  traversed  these  great  subterranean  chambers,  the 
echoes  of  which  rang  to  the  sound  of  our  steps,  I  had  no  longer 
a  doubt  for  what  purpose  the  similar  constructions  which  I  had 
seen  in  the  East  were  designed — such  for  example  as  the 
Chamber  of  the  Thousand  Pillars — I  think  that  is  the  name 
— at  Constantinople,  the  spacious  vaults  under  the  tower  of 
Kamleh  in  Palestine,  and  others  beneath  ruined  castles  and 
mosques  in  the  Holy  Land.  They  were,  I  doubt  not,  cisterns, 
in  which  the  water  falling  from  the  clouds  in  those  thirsty  re- 
gions, was  collected  for  seasons  of  drought.  The  vaults  under 
the  mosque  of  Omar,  at  Jerusalem,  were  probably  constructed 
as  reservoirs  of  water. 

In  speaking  of  the  public  entertainments  of  Madrid,  I 
ought,  perhaps,  to  have  included  what  I  have  no  doubt  will, 
in  due  time,  take  the  place  of  the  bull-fights — that  is  to  say, 
the  newspapers.  I  have  not  been  able  to  buy  a  newspaper 
in  the  streets  since  I  came  here,  yet  the  taste  for  newspaper 
reading  is  rapidly  increasing ;  the  time  is  at  hand  when  they 
will  be  deemed  as  much  a  necessary  of  life  as  the  matches 
now  sold  at  every  corner  for  the  loungers  to  light  their  cigars. 
A  few  years  since,  there  were  but  four  or  five  of  them  in 
Madrid,  and  now  there  are  twenty-four.  I  have  looked 
i  ^them  over  with  much  interest ;  they  discuss  political  ques- 
tions with  ability  and  decorum;  some  of  the  most  eminent 
men  in  the  country  write  for  them.  Escosura,  now  a  politi- 
cal exile,  used,  I  am  told,  while  a  minister,  to  write,  at  stated 
periods,  his  newspaper  article,  and  take  his  onza^  or  fee  of 
sixteen  dollars.     It  appears  to  me  also  that  these  discussions 


LIBEETY     OF     THE     PEESS.  145 

just  now  are  managed  with  perfect  freedom.  In  fact,  the 
fall  of  the  late  ministry  is  generally  attributed  to  the  law  ol 
the  press,  the  ley  de  imprenta,  as  it  is  called,  for  which, 
although  it  was  never  regularly  enacted,  Narvaez  and  Noce- 
dal  had  the  address  to  procure  from  the  Cortes  an  ordinance 
giving  it  the  force  of  a  law  until  their  next  meeting,  when  it 
was  to  be  discussed  and  finally  enacted  or  rejected.  This 
ordinance  imposed  upon  the  press  in  Spain  the  odious 
shackles  it  wears  in  France,  and  was  intended  as  an  engine 
of  the  most  perfect  despotism.  The  discontent  occasioned 
by  it  was  so  great,  and  manifested  itself  so  strongly,  that 
the  Queen,  who  does  not  like  trouble,  and  who  dreaded  a 
revolution,  got  rid  of  her  ministers  in  some  haste  ;  and  the 
bold  and  once  popular  Narvaez,  and  the  active,  able,  and,  as 
his  enemies  say,  the  utterly  unprincipled  Nocedal,  have 
fallen,  probably  never  to  rise  again.  The  ley  de  imprenta 
will  always  be  remembered  to  their  shame. 

I  hear  that  there  are  very  few  of  the  daily  newspapers  of 
Madrid  the  expenses  of  which  are  fully  paid  out  of  their  in- 
come. It  follows  that  they  are  supported  in  part  by  the 
contributions  of  the  different  parties  for  whom  they  speak. 
Meantime,  they  keep  up  the  controversy  respecting  measures 
and  principles  with  as  much  spirit  and  perseverance  as  the 
journals  of  our  own  country,  without  the  vulgarity  which  is 
sometimes  so  offensive  in  our  party  contests.  In  some  of 
the  Spanish  journals  questions  of  political  economy  are  very 
ably  argued ;  the  Discmwn,  for  example,  maintains  the  cause 
7 


146  A     SPANISH     RAILWAY. 

of  free  trade,  and  exposes  the  errors  of  the  protectionists 
with  skill  and  effect. 

The  new  Ministry,  appointed  since  I  came  to  Madrid,  of 
which  Martinez  de  la  Kosa,  an  old  constitutional  conserva- 
tive, always  consistent,  is  one  of  the  principal  members,  and 
in  which  Mon,  a  politician  of  liberal  ideas  in  regard  to, com- 
merce, holds  the  place  of  Minister  of  Finance,  will,  it  is 
thought,  be  favorable  to  freedom  of  trade,  and  do  something 
to  relax  the  rigor  of  the  system  under  which  the  useful  arts 
in  Spain  languish,  and  smuggling  flourishes.  The  law  of 
the  press  will  probably  be  rejected  under  this  administration. 
The  appointments  which  it  has  made  of  Governors  of  the  dif- 
ferent provinces  have  already  given  great  offence  to  the  ab- 
solutists. The  new  ministry  have  released  many  persons  ar- 
rested and  thrown  into  prison,  by  the  order  of  Narvaez  and 
his  colleagues,  for  no  other  reason  than  that  they  were 
men  whom  the  absolutists  disliked  and  dreaded. 

If  newsboys  are  to  be  found  anywhere  in  a  city  you  would 
expect  to  meet  them  at  the  railway  stations.  Madrid  has 
one  station — the  commencement  of  a  railway  intended  to 
connect  the  capital  with  the  Mediterranean,  and  already  ex- 
tending a  hundred  and  sixty  miles  towards  the  coast ;  but  at 
that  place  nobody  ever  cries  the  newspapers,  though  the 
trains  leave  it  several  times  in  the  day.  I  was  shown  over 
the  place  a  few  days  since  by  the  gentlemanly  superintend- 
ent ;  it  was  a  scene  of  more  activity  than  I  had  witnessed 
since  I  came  to  Spain.     The  station  extends  over  a  square  of 


OTHER     RAILWAY     PROJECTS.  147 

nearly  forty  acres  ;  hundreds  of  workmen  were  engaged  in 
levelling  it,  and  hundreds  of  others  in  constructing  its  work- 
shops and  other  buildings,  while  close  at  hand  a  private  com- 
pany was  putting  up  a  large  iron  foundry.  The  trains  run 
to  Almanza,  a  Murcian  town,  from  which  one  branch  wUl 
proceed  to  the  port  of  Alicante,  and  another  to  that  of  Va- 
lencia. The  branch  to  Alicante — from  twelve  to  fourteen 
Spanish  leagues  in  length — is  all  but  finished,  and  will  be 
opened  in  the  course  of  the  winter  ;  that  to  Valencia  will  re- 
quire more  time,  on  account  of  intervening  rocky  hills. 

When  the  entire  track  shall  be  completed  to  Alicante, 
Madrid  will  have,  for  the  first  time,  an  easy,  quick  and  cheap 
communication  with  a  seaport.  The  little  town  of  Ali- 
cante, now  the  seat  of  a  petty  commerce,  will  start  into  new 
life  and  growth.  I  suppose  that  envy  of  the  prospects  of 
Alicante  will  hasten  the  completion  of  the  branch  to  the  city 
of  Valencia,  and  that  when  the  efiect  upon  the  prosperity  of 
these  two  places  becomes  visible,  an  emulation  will  be  awak- 
ened which  will  cause  railways  to  be  made  from  Madrid  to 
other  cities  and  other  marts  of  the  sea.  There  is  a  company 
already  engaged  in  the  project  of  a  railway  from  Madrid  to 
Bayonne,  but  its  progress  is  very  sluggish.  One  of  the 
clerks  employed  in  the  office  of  the  engineer  at  Vitoria,  told 
me  that  if  it  should  be  finished  in  ten  years  it  was  all  that 
could  be  reasonably  expected.  A  railway  from  Madrid  to 
Lisbon  is  also  one  of  the  projects  of  the  day. 

Whether  these  projects  ever  go  into  effect  or  not,  the 
opening  of  a  passage  by  steam  to  the  sea  coast  will  bring  the 


148  THE     FUTUEE     OF     SPAIN. 

whole  eastern  and  soutliern  coast  of  Spain  into  immediate 
communication  with  Madrid.  All  that  is  produced  in  those 
rich  districts,  all  that  is  woven  or  wrought  in  the  looms  and 
workshops  of  Catalonia  and  Valencia  ;  the  fruits  of  the  gar- 
dens of  Murcia  and  Andalucia ;  and  the  harvests  of  all  their 
fields,  which  are  now  conveyed  to  the  capital  hy  slow,  labo- 
rious and  expensive  journeys,  on  the  backs  of  mules  or  in 
carts,  or  in  the  rude  country  wagons  called  galeras,  will  be 
brought  up  from  the  provinces  in  a  few  hours  and  at  little 
cost.  Not  only  will  Madrid  be  thus  brought  near  to  all  the 
ports  of  the  Mediterranean,  but  by  means  of  the  railways 
proceeding  from  the  French  ports,  she  will  become  the 
neighbor  of  all  the  northern  capitals  of  Europe.  The  cur- 
rent of  foreign  travel  which  sweeps  over  the  continent,  and 
is  only  turned  away  from  Spain  by  the  obstacles  of  bad 
roads  and  insufficient  and  uncertain  means  of  conveyance, 
will  rush  in  at  the  opening  made  for  it.  From  Marseilles,  a 
brief  voyage  in  a  steamer  to  Alicante  or  Valencia,  and 
eight  hours  afterwards  on  the  rails,  will  take  one  to  the  seat 
of  the  Spanish  monarchy. 

What  effect  this  wiU  have  on  the  material  interests  of 
Madrid,  it  is  easy  to  see  ;  what  agency  it  may  have  in  has- 
tening changes  of  another  kind,  now  going  on  in  Spain,  is 
fair  matter  of  conjecture.  The  world  is  always  in  a  state  of  j 
change ;  but  at  the  present  time  causes  are  at  work  as  ac- 
tively in  Spain  as  elsewhere,  which  thrust  change  upon  the 
heels  of  change  more  suddenly  than  ever  before.  Here  is  j 
sea-beach  which  the  tide  is  rising  to  overwhelm,  and  Spain 


CHANGES     AND     THEIR     EFFECT.  149 

is  only  a  bank  lying  a  little  higlier  than  the  rest,  but  equally 
sure  to  be  submerged  at  last. 

It  is  impossible,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  monastic  in- 
stitutions, which  had  flourished  for  so  many  centuries  in 
Spain,  and  struck  their  roots  so  wide  and  deep,  and  over- 
shadowed so  much  of  its  territory,  should  be  wrenched  from 
its  soil  without  great  consequences,  affecting  the  character  and 
condition  of  its  people,  which  even  now  have  but  just  begun 
to  make  themselves  felt.  The  temporary  restoration  of  these 
orders  under  Ferdinand  the  Seventh,  was  attended  with  cir- 
cumstances which  engendered  bitter  resentments,  and  their 
present  suppression  is  doubtless  final  and  perpetual.  It  is 
impossible,  in  the  second  place,  that  a  system  of  universal 
education  should  be  adopted  in  a  country  without  introducing 
new  ideas.  The  ordinance  which  obliges  parents  to  send 
their  children  to  the  public  schools,  is  not,  I  believe,  much 
regarded ;  but,  in  the  mean  time,  the  number  of  readers  is 
rapidly  multiplying.  Again,  it  is  impossible  that  the  lib- 
erty of  printing  should  be  allowed  in  any  moderate  degree, 
without  exploding  many  old  notions  and  opinions,  and  adopt- 
ing others  in  their  place.  It  is  remarkable  that,  even  while 
the  odious  ley  de  imprenta  has  been  in  force,  it  is  a  law  of 
which  even  those  who  framed  it  have  never  dared  to  take  the 
full  advantage  ;  and  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that,  to 
a  certain  extent,  the  liberty  of  the  press  will  continue  to  be 
enjoyed  in  Spain.  Finally,  it  is  impossible  that  a  free  inter- 
course should  exist  between  nations,  as  is  certain  to  be  the 
case  between   Spain  and  the  rest  of  the  world  to  a  much 


150  KINDNESS     OF     THE     MADRILENOS. 

greater  degree  than  ever  before,  without  their  borrowing 
something  from  each  other  in  ideas  and  habits.  The  people 
of  difierent  countries  are  becoming  less  and  less  unlike  each 
other  every  day,  under  influences  which  we  cannot  disarm 
of  their  power  if  we  would. 

The  administration  of  public  affairs  in  Spain  will  ptoba- 
bly  vacillate  from  conservative  to  liberal  and  from  liberal  to 
conservative  ;  the  Moderados  will  be  in  power  to-day  and  the 
Progresistas  to-morrow ;  but  these  are  mere  petty  agitations 
of  the  surface  ;  and  underlying  them  aU,  and  far  more  pow- 
erful than  they,  and  ever  steadily  at  work,  are  the  great 
causes  of  change  which  I  have  already  enumerated.  For 
good  or  for  evil,  the  operation  of  these  causes  must  go  on. 
To  a  hopeful  temperament,  however,  there  is  nothing  dis- 
couraging in  this.  All  change,  we  know,  is  not  for  the  bet- 
ter; but  if  Spain  should  lose  some  of  her  old  virtues,  let  us 
hope  that  she  will  acquire  some  new  ones  in  their  place ;  if 
her  people  should  learn  some  new  vices,  let  us  hope  that  they 
will  get  rid  of  some  old  ones.  There  will  still  remain,  I 
suppose,  certain  distinctive  elements  of  character,  in  that 
mingling  and  proportion  of  intellectual  faculties  and  moral 
dispositions  which  the  various  families  of  mankind  receive 
from  nature,  and  which  cause  them  to  differ  from  each  other 
as  remarkably  as  individuals. 

I  am  now  on  the  point  of  leaving  Madrid,  and  I  shall 
leave  it  with  a  certain  sadness,  as  a  place  in  which  I  have 
found  much  to  entertain  and  interest  me,  and  in  which  I 
have  been  treated  with  much  kindness  both  by  Spaniards  and 


THE     AMERICAN     MINISTER.  151 

my  own  countrymen.  Of  the  people  of  the  country  I  ought 
to  carry  away  a  most  favorable  impression,  if  such  an  im- 
pression could  be  produced  by  unwearied  endeavors,  with  ap- 
parently no  motive  but  simple  benevolence,  to  make  our  stay 
agreeable.  The  American  minister,  Mr.  Dodge,  is  very  at- 
tentive to  the  convenience  of  his  countrymen,  and  a  great 
favorite  with  such  of  them  as  come  to  Madrid.  He  is  on  ex- 
cellent terms  also  with  the  people  of  the  country,  and  has 
done,  what  I  think  few  of  his  predecessors  have  taken  the 
trouble  to  do — acquired  their  language.  He  has  sent  his  res- 
ignation to  Mr.  Buchanan,  that  there  may  be  no  hesitation 
in  giving  the  embassy  to  any  other  person ;  but  should  the 
resignation  be  accepted,  it-  is  not  likely  that  the  post  will  be 
so  well  filled  as  it  now  is. 


152  DEPARTURE     FROM     MADRID. 


LETTER  XIV. 

A   JOURNEY    FROM   MADRID    TO   ALICANTE. 

Carthagena,  Old  Spain,  Novemher  28,  185Y. 
We  left  Madrid  on  a  cliiUy,  rainy  morning,  the  18  th  of 
November,  after  having  waited  several  days  for  settled  weath- 
er, that  we  might  visit  Toledo,  to  which  a  friend  was  to  ac- 
company us.  The  fair  day  for  which  we  were  looking  had 
not  arrived,  and  we  reluctantly  gave  up  the  idea  of  an  excur- 
sion to  that  ancient  city,  which  has  preserved  so  long  the 
works  of  her  Moorish  architects,  and  tokens  of  the  Moorish 
dominion  among  the  later  works  of  her  Gothic  builders,  and 
where  they  yet  forge  the  famous  Toledo  blade,  not  quite 
equal,  perhaps,  to  the  cutlery  of  Sheffield.  How  many  other 
old  cities  of  Spain  we  shall  have  been  obliged  to  leave  behind 
on  our  journey !  Bilbao,  Salamanca,  Zaragoza,  and  a  dozen 
more,  all  of  which  we  should  have  visited,  had  we  leisure, 
and  the  roads  and  the  weather  allowed  us.  We  shall  leave 
Spain,  also,  without  a  look  at  those  who  range  the  woods  of 
Estremadura  ;  without  seeing  any  thing  of  Galicia  or  the  As- 
turias,  and  other  provinces,  which,  inhabited  by  races  distinct 
from  each  other  in  character,  costume  and  speech,  make  up 
what  was  once  the  powerful  and  dreaded  monarchy  of  Spain. 
To  see  Spain  well,  requires  time,  and  we  feel  that  we  are 


A     HERMITAGE.  153 

about  to  leave  it  without  having  had  more  than  a  mere 
glimpse  of  the  country  and  its  people. 

The  wind,  as  we  passed  through  the  walks  of  the  Prado, 
was  tearing  off  and  strewing  over  the  hard-beaten  soil  the 
sallow  leaves  from  the  elms  and  other  trees,  some  of  which, 
however,  whose  foHage  had  not  yet  grown  old,  were  still  in 
full  leaf,  and  attested,  by  the  freshness  of  their  verdure,  the 
mildness  of  the  autumnal  climate  in  this  capital.  To  our 
surprise,  for  punctuality  in  the  arrangements  for  travelling  is 
not  a  common  virtue  in  Spain,  the  train  set  out  at  pre- 
cisely the  appointed  hour.  It  took  us  along  the  banks  of  the 
Manzanares,  beside  a  canal  begun  by  Ferdinand  the  Seventh, 
to  connect  Madrid  with  the  sea,  and  after  a  considerable 
waste  of  money  abandoned.  To  the  left  of  our  track  ap- 
peared a  church,  seated  on  a  high  rocky  hill,  rising  out  of 
the  plain.  "  It  is  the  hermitage  of  Pintovas,"  said  a  fellow- 
passenger.  "These  churches  which  you  see  in  solitary  places 
are  called  hermitages.  Until  lately,  some  person  devoted  to 
a  recluse  life  had  his  cell  in  them,  and  subsisted  on  the  alms 
which  he  got  from  the  faithful.  The  government  has  seized 
upon  them,  or  most  of  them,  professing  to  regard  them  as 
useless  for  the  purpose  of  public  worship,  and  the  hermits, 
like  the  monks,  have  been  driven  back  into  the  world  they 
had  left." 

Some  forty  miles  from  Madrid  we  crossed  the  Tagus,  swol- 
len with  rain,  and  carrying  to  the  ocean  the  soil  of  Castile  in 
I  tk  torrent  of  yellow  mud.  Immediately  we  found  ourselves  in 
ranjuez,  among  shady  walks  and  trim  gardens,  rows  and 


154  ARANJUEZ. 

thickets  of  elms,  acacias  and  planes,  plantations  of  fruit  trees 
flourishing  in  a  rich  soil,  and  abundant  springs  breaking  out 
at  the  foot  of  the  declivities,  and  keeping  up  a  perpetual  ver- 
dure. Here  the  royal  family  of  Spain  have  a  country  palace, 
and  hither  it  is  their  custom  to  come  in  spring,  when  the 
flowers  and  the  nightingales  make  their  appearance,  which 
is  much  earlier  in  Aranjuez  than  at  Madrid ;  but  they  leave 
the  place  as  soon  as  the  summer  sets  in,  on  account  of  the 
intermittent  fevers  which  prevail  here.  The  grounds  are  not 
laid  out  with  any  taste,  nor  could  the  place  be  thought  re- 
markably pretty  in  our  country ;  yet  to  our  eyes,  accustomed 
so  long  to  the  brown  fields  of  Castile,  it  seemed  a  paradise. 
But  now  the  walks  were  slippery  with  mud,  and  we  were  not 
tempted  to  stop.  We  issued  from  the  valley  of  Aranjuez, 
and  proceeded  to  Villasequilla,  where  we  had  thought  to  take 
the  road  leading  up  to  the  rocks  on  which  Toledo  is  built ; 
but  even  this  place  we  were  obliged  to  leave  behind,  on  account 
of  the  continued  bad  weather,  and  passing  by  a  few  solitary 
cottages,  scattered  at  distant  intervals  along  the  railway,  and 
inhabited  by  persons  in  the  service  of  the  proprietors,  at  the 
doors  of  which  we  saw  the  comfortable-looking  families  of  the 
inmates,  the  train  soon  whirled  us  into  the  province  of  La 
Mancha.         ^  »      -      ^^■- 

In  all  its  provinces  which  I  have  seen,  Spain  needs  a 
reformer  like  Dr.  Piper  in  our  country — some  enthusiastic 
friend  of  trees,  to  show  the  people  the  folly  of  stripping  a 
country  of  its  woods ;  but  in  no  part  of  the  kingdom  is  he  so 
much  needed  as  in  La  Mancha.     If  the  Castiles  are  deplora- 


LA     MANCHA.  155 

bly  naked,  La  Mancha  is  so  in  a  greater  degree,  if  that  be 
possible.  Until  you  begin  to  approach  the  Murcian  frontier, 
La  Mancha  has  scarcely  a  bush  ;  it  has  no  running  streams, 
and  scarce  a  blade  of  grass  makes  itself  seen ;  the  only  green 
it  has  at  this  season  is  the  springing  wheat,  which  the  rains 
have  just  quickened,  and  fields  of  which  lie  scattered  among 
the  tracts  of  fallow  ground.  It  is  a  time  of  rejoicing  in  Spain 
when  the  rains  fall  soon  after  the  wheat  is  sown,  for  that  is 
the  promise  of  a  plenteous  harvest.  -  When  the  plant  is  once 
put  in  a  due  course  of  growth  by  timely  moisture,  it  defies  the 
drought  of  the  succeeding  season.  The  last  harvest  was  un- 
commonly large,  and  the  people  are  now  looking  confidently 
for  another  year  of  abundance.  I  may  mention  here  that  in 
almost  all  the  districts  of  Spain  which  produce  wheat,  it  is 
the  practice  to  let  the  soil  recover  its  fertility  by  rest.  The 
surface  of  the  ground  is  stirred  with  a  little  light  plough  of 
the  rudest  make  ;  the  seed  is  then  scattered  and  covered ;  the 
harvest  is  reaped  in  due  time,  a  harvest  of  full,  round,  heavy 
grains,  yielding  the  whitest  of  flour,  and  then  the  ground  is 
left  un tilled  in  stubble,  till  it  will  bear  stirring  again.  No 
growth  of  juicy  clover,  or  of  the  sweet  grasses  we  cultivate 
for  cattle,  succeeds  that  of  wheat. 

But  to  return  to  the  subject  of  trees  ;  they  say  at  Madrid : 
"  Aranjuez  is  overshadowed  with  trees,  and  the  place  is  un- 
healthy in  summer ;  trees  grow  along  the  Manzanares  under 
the  walls  of  our  city,  and  on  the  banks  of  that  river  you  have 
the  tertian  ague."  The  answer  to  this  is,  that  the  unhealth- 
iness  of  Aranjuez  is  caused  by  its  stagnant  waters,  and  that 


156  DKEAEY     ABSENCE     OF     TREES. 

there  is  no  proof  that  trees  make  the  air  in  the  valley  of  the 
Manzanares  unwholesome,  any  more  than  the  pebbles  of  its 
stream.  It  has  never  been  found  that  the  health  of  a  dis- 
trict, subject  to  fever  and  ague,  has  been  improved  by  strip- 
ping it  of  its  trees,  and  letting  in  the  sun,  to  bake  the  soil 
and  evaporate  the  moisture  to  its  unwholesome  dregs.  It  is 
objected  again,  in  the  grain-producing  districts  of  Spain, 
that  trees  form  a  harbor  for  the  birds,  which  devour  their 
wheat.  'For  these  childish  reasons,  whole  provinces,  once  in- 
dependent kingdoms,  have  denied  themselves  the  refreshment 
of  shade  and  verdure,  have  hewn  down  the  forests  which  cov- 
ered the  springs  of  their  rivers  and  kept  them  perennial,  and 
withheld  the  soil  from  being  washed  away  by  the  rains,  and 
have  let  in  the  winds  to  sweep  over  the  country  unchecked, 
and  winnow  its  clods  to  powder. 

Ford,  in  his  "  Handbook  for  Travellers,"  says  that  the 
rivers  of  the  country  are  constantly  diminishing.  I  do  not 
know  what  evidence  he  has  to  support  this  assertion  ;  he  cer- 
tainly produces  none  ;  but  it  may  be  safely  taken  for  granted, 
that  they  have  now  less  depth  of  water  in  summer  than  when 
their  sources  were  shaded  by  woods,  under  which  a  bed  of 
leaves  absorbed  the  rains,  and  parted  with  them  gradually 
to  the  soil,  protecting  them  from  a  too  rapid  exhalation. 
The  beds  of  many  of  the  rivers  of  Spain  are  dry  for  the 
greater  part  of  the  year,  and  only  form  a  channel  for  torrents 
in  the  rainy  season.  To  renew  the  groves,  which  have  been 
improvidently  hewn  away,  would  be  a  difficult  task,  on  ac- 
count of  the  present  aridity  of  the  soil  and  air,  which  are  un- 


ASPECT     OF     THE     COUNTRY.  157 

favorable  to  the  growth  and  health  of  trees ;  but  with  the 
increase  of  their  number,  it  is  natural  to  expect  that  the 
work  of  rearing  them  would  become  easier.  It  will  require, 
however,  I  suppose,  centuries  to  wean  the  people  of  the 
prejudice  of  which  I  speak,  and  then  almost  as  long  a  time 
to  repair  the  mischief  which  is  its  fruit. 

La  Mancha  has  a  look  of  cheerlessness  and  poverty,  and 
the  intervals  between  town  and  town  are  longer  and  more 
dreary  than  in  the  Castiles.  I  hear  that  the  winds  in  sum- 
mer, sweeping  over  this  level  region  without  an  obstacle, 
drift  the  dust  of  the  ways  and  fields  in  almost  perpetual 
clouds  through  the  air ;  but  when  we  passed  through  it,  the 
earth  was  yet  moist  with  rain,  which  here  and  there  stood  in 
broad  plashes.  The  towns  which  lay  in  our  course,  such  as 
Campo  de  Creptino  and  others,  are  mostly,  as  it  appeared  to 
me,  built  of  small  unhewn  stones,  plastered  on  the  outside 
with  red  mud,  the  soil  of  the  country.  The  inhabitants  are 
a  slender  and  rather  small  race  of  men.  I  saw  companies  of 
them  employed  on  the  railways  near  the  stations ;  they 
seemed  to  work  with  a  will,  and  had  a  healthy  look.  All 
over  the  country,  wind-mills,  as  in  the  time  of  the  author  of 
Don  Quixote,  were  flinging  their  long  arms  about,  and  in 
one  or  two  places  they  stood  in  a  little  host  on  the  hill-side. 
Let  me  say  for  La  Mancha,  however,  that  just  before  we 
passed  out  of  it,  between  Campo  de  Creptino  and  Villaro- 
bledo,  our  eyes  were  refreshed  by  the  sight  of  a  forest  of 
evergreen  oaks,  small  and  thinly  scattered,  but  extending 
over  a  considerable  tract  of  country. 


158  ALBACETE.        SPANISH     DAGGEBS. 

Soon  after  this  we  glided  into  twilight  and  darkness,  and 
at  half-past  seven  reached  Albacete,  where  we  left  the  train 
and  stopped  for  the  night  at  a  passable  inn.  We  were  now 
in  Murcia,  the  land  of  fruits,  and  they  gave  us  for  dessert 
what  you  do  not  often  find  in  Europe,  some  sweet  and  well- 
flavored  melons.  As  we  were  dining,  we  were  beset  with 
people  offering  to  sell  us  daggers  and  poniards,  which  are 
skilfully  wrought  in  this  country,  and  often  prettily  orna- 
mented. The  fellows  were  neatly  dressed  and  smoothly 
shaved,  and  all  wore  new  black  velvet  caps.  They  address- 
ed themselves  to  the  ladies  of  our  party,  whom  they  seemed 
to  consider  most  in  need  of  their  weapons,  and  it  cost  a  good 
deal  of  trouble  to  convince  them  that  we  were  gente  de  paz^ 
who  had  come  to  the  country  without  the  slightest  intention 
of  stabbing  anybody  in  it.  As  fast  as  we  got  rid  of  one  of 
these  men,  another  would  make  his  appearance,  until  they 
had  all  received  the  same  answer,  and  left  us  to  finish  our 
meal  in  quiet. 

We  had  no  time  to  look  at  Albacete,  for  we  left  it  in  the 
fog  and  darkness  at  half-past  five  the  next  morning,  when 
the  train  came  along  from  Madrid.  When  the  fog  cleared 
away  at  sunrise,  we  were  passing  through  a  forest  of  ever- 
green oaks.  The  trees  which  had  attained  any  size  had 
been  polled  so  often  that  their  tops  were  but  little  broader 
than  their  trunks,  and  when  I  looked  at  them,  I  could  think 
only  of  so  many  barbers'  blocks  in  green  wigs.  We  reached 
Almanza,  where  the  travel  on  the  railway  terminates  for  the 
present,  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  morniug.     We  break- 


A     CAERITO.  159 

fasted  at  a  comfortless  inn,  where  a  fresh-colored,  stately 
hostess,  of  ample  proportions,  paid  us  little  attention,  and 
were  waited  upon  by  two  remarkably  skinny  and  shrivelled 
little  women. 

Our  first  care  was  now  to  procure  the  means  of  convey- 
ance to  Alicante.  We  might  have  proceeded  in  the  dili- 
gence to  Valencia,  which  we  afterwards  found  to  our  cost 
would  have  been  the  most  convenient  mode,  but  as  we  were 
going  to  the  south  of  Spain,  and  the  nearest  route  lay  through 
Alicante,  we  determined  to  make  the  best  of  our  way  direct- 
ly to  that  place.  There  was  no  diligence  or  any  other  regu- 
lar means  of  communication  between  Almanza  and  Alicante. 
The  common  conveyance  of  the  country  is  a  tartana,  which 
is  a  sort  of  cart,  a  two-wheeled  vehicle  without  springs,  but 
provided  with  cushioned  seats,  an  arched  top,  and  glasses  in 
front.  I  found  all  the  tartanas  already  in  use,  and  the  owner 
of  the  best  in  town  did  not  expect  it  back  till  night,  so  that 
we  were  obliged  to  take  up  with  the  original  of  the  tartana, 
a  simple  cart  of  rude  construction,  with  cushioned  seats  on 
each  side  like  those  of  an  omnibus,  an  awning,  a  covering 
of  painted  cloth,  and  a  floor  of  strong  matting.  They  call 
this  a  carrito,  to  distinguish  it  from  the  carro,  which  has  no 
seats  within,  and  carries  charcoal  and  cabbages  to  market. 
I  hired  a  vehicle  of  this  kind  to  take  us  to  Alicante,  a  dis- 
tance of  about  sixty  miles,  in  eighteen  hours  of  travel ;  an 
allowance  of  time  which  seemed  to  me  discouragingly  lib- 
eral. For  my  comfort,  some  gentlemen,  who  were  breakfast- 
ing at  the  inn,  assured  me  that  the  road  was  "  transitable," 
as  they  called  it. 


160  ALMANZA. 

In  getting  ready  for  our  journey,  our  luggage  was  fasten- 
ed to  the  back  of  the  carrito  in  such  a  manner  as  to  keep 
that  part  disproportionately  heavy,  and  always  inclining 
most  inconveniently  to  the  ground.  We  looked  at  the  vehi- 
cle, and  looked  at  the  streets  of  Almanza,  which  lay  deep  in 
mud,  and  concluded  to  walk  till  we  got  out  of  town,  picking 
our  way  as  we  best  might,  by  keeping  close  to  the  houses. 
As  we  went,  we  met  numbers  of  people  with  loaded  donkeys 
coming  to  market,  and  heavy  carts  and  wagons,  staggering 
through  the  miry  streets,  their  drivers  filling  the  air  with 
shouts,  while  at  every  corner,  and  at  almost  every  door,  stood 
the  idle  inhabitants,  staring  at  us  or  nodding  and  smiling  to 
each  other,  and  pointing  to  the  Franceses^  as  they  call  all 
foreigners  in  this  country.  We  reached  at  length  the  city 
gate,  and  passing  out  upon  the  broad  highway  into  the  open 
country,  turned  to  admire  the  site  of  Almanza,  lying  in  a 
fertile  valley,  among  craggy  mountains.  Close  beside  it 
rose,  immediately  out  of  the  plain,  a  lofty  red  rock,  uplifting 
a  massive  castle  of  the  same  color,  which  looked  as  if  the 
cliffs  had  formed  themselves  into  walls  and  battlements. 

We  now  got  into  our  carrito,  the  motion  of  which  was 
unpleasant  enough.  The  road  was  said  to  be  macadamized, 
but  this  was  a  figure  of  speech ;  no  pains  had  been  taken  to 
keep  the  middle  higher  than  the  sides,  hollows  were  formed 
where  the  water  had  softened  the  ground  into  mud,  the 
heavy  carts  and  galeras  had  almost  everywhere  furrowed  it 
with  deep  ruts ;  and  wherever  the  mire  seemed  too  deep  for  a 
loaded  vehicle  to  struggle  through,  a  heap  of  coarse  broken 


A     MUECIAN     CAREETERO.  161 

stone  had  been  thrown  in  a  sort  of  desperation,  whicn  added 
to  the  roughness  of  the  way.  We  were  tossed  backwards 
and  forwards,  and  pitched  from  side  to  side  as  we  stumbled 
on.  Our  driver  was  a  good-natured,  careless,  swarthy  Mur- 
cian,  Jose  Pinero  by  name,  as  lithe  as  a  snake,  dressed  in 
black  velvet  jacket  and  pantaloons,  with  a  bright  parti- 
colored handkerchief  wrapped  round  his  head,  and  over  that 
a  black  velvet  cap.  With  a  beard  and  the  Oriental  costume, 
he  might  have  passed  for  an  Arab  of  the  purest  caste.  He 
spoke  a  sort  of  clipped  Spanish,  with  a  Murcian  lisp,  and  sat 
on  a  little  board  in  front  of  our  cart,  doubled  up,  much  as  he 
doubled  his  whip.  We  had  stipulated  for  two  good  horses, 
but  those  which  were  furnished  us  did  not  quite  answer  that 
description.  They  were  very  thin,  and  looked  old  and  worn 
out ;  they  were  harnessed  one  before  the  other,  and  the 
leader,  who  had  not  been  accustomed  to  draw  except  with 
another  by  his  side,  had  an  inconvenient  habit  of  always 
crowding  to  the  right,  so  that  our  Murcian  was  at  his  wit's 
end  to  keep  him  in  the  road. 

Beyond  Almanza  the  country  had  some  color ;  there 
were  bright  green  fields  of  wheat  and  trefoil,  and  tracts  of 
tilth  between,  of  a  chocolate  brown,  and  low  brushwood  on 
the  hills,  of  a  dark  green  hue,  looking  like  the  stubble  of 
what  might  once  have  been  forests.  Six  leagues  from  Al- 
manza, where  pinnacles  of  bare  rock  enclose  smooth  and  fer- 
tile valleys,  we  reached,  as  the  night  was  setting  in,  Villena, 
a  Murcian  town,  and  stopped  at  the  Posada  de  Alicante,  a 
wretched  inn,  kept  in  what  was  formerly  part  of  a  convent, 


162  A    MURCIAN     INN. 

where  horses  were  stabled  in  the  cloisters  below,  and  wide 
stone  stair-cases  led  to  the  rooms  occupied  by  the  family  and 
their  guests  above.  As  we  entered,  we  heard  the  tinkling 
of  a  guitar  and  the  clatter  of  castanets,  and  saw  in  a  vaulted 
recess,  on  the  ground  floor,  half  a  dozen  people  sitting  on 
benches,  one  of  whom,  a  young  man,  was  playing,  while  be- 
fore him  a  young  fellow  and  a  little  girl  were  dancing.  We 
got  a  great,  dreary,  chilly  room,  with  one  large  window  look- 
ing out  upon  the  old  court  of  the  convent,  and  two  deep  al- 
coves containing  enormous  wide  beds  of  straw,  resting  on 
huge  bedsteads  of  beam  and  plank,  the  work  of  some  coarse 
carpenter ;  perhaps  they  were  the  same  on  which  the  bulky 
friars,  the  former  inmates  of  the  place,  had  slept.  A  strap- 
ping Murcian  woman,  loud-voiced  and  impudent,  and  always 
talking,  laid  the  sheets  for  us,  assisted  by  a  younger  maiden, 
little,  pretty,  and  quiet.  For  our  evening  meal  we  got  a 
tolerable  soup,  but  it  was  with  great  difficulty  that  we  pre- 
vented it  from  being  flavored  with  garlic.  The  elder  wait- 
ing woman  tossed  her  head,  and  expressed  her  scorn  very 
freely  when  we  gave  repeated  orders  to  dispense  with  the 
favorite  condiment  of  her  country;  but  we  got  the  soup 
without  garlic,  notwithstanding.  The  greatest  difficulty  we 
had  was  in  obtaining  a  sufficient  supply  of  water  for  our 
morning  ablutions.  A  single  large  washbowl,  half  filled 
with  water,  was  placed  on  a  stand  in  the  corner  of  the  great 
room,  and  this  was  expected  to  serve  for  us  all.  We  called 
for  more  water,  and  a  jar  was  brought  in,  from  which  the 
washbowl  was  filled  to  the  brim.     We  explained  that  each 


SCARCITY     OF     WATER.  1G3 

one  of  us  wanted  a  separate  quantity  of  pure  water,  but  the 
stout  waiting-woman  had  no  idea  of  conforming  to  our  out- 
landish notions,  and  declined  doing  any  thing  more  for  us. 
It  was  only  after  an  appeal  to  the  landlady,  that  a  queer 
Murcian  pitcher,  looking  like  a  sort  of  sky-rocket,  with  two 
handles,  five  spouts,  and  a  foot  so  small  that  it  could  hardly 
stand  by  itself,  was  brought  in,  and  for  greater  security  made 
to  lean  against  the  wall  in  the  corner  of  the  room. 


164  GETTING     OUT     OF     VILLENA. 


LETTEK  XV. 

A   JOURNEY   FROM   MADRID    TO   ALICANTE CONCLUDED. 

Cartagena,  November  29,  185*7. 
At  an  early  hour  the  next  morning  the  muleteers  were 
reloading  their  beasts  among  the  arches  of  the  cloisters, 
where  they  had  been  fed,  and  at  half-past  five  o'clock  we  set 
out  among  them.  We  had  made  our  way  to  the  inn  with 
perfect  ease  the  night  before,  and  one  of  our  party  had  re- 
marked upon  this  to  the  driver.  "  You  will  find  Villena  a 
bad  place  to  get  out  of,"  was  his  answer,  and  so  it  proved, 
for  I  do  not  remember  ever  to  have  been  conveyed,  in  the 
night,  through  streets  so  crooked,  narrow  and  miry.  A  man 
had  been  engaged  to  keep  beside  the  horses,  and  guide  them 
at  the  sudden  turns  of  the  streets,  but  even  this  precaution 
did  not  seem  enough.  There  was  not  a  lamp  in  the  streets, 
and  only  a  dim  starlight  in  the  sky ;  but  luckily,  an  end  ol 
candle  was  found  in  the  carriage,  which,  being  lighted, 
helped  to  show  the  way.  Several  times  the  horses  stopped, 
and  required  a  great  deal  of  encouragement  from  the  driver 
before  they  would  attempt  to  draw  us  out  of  the  sloughs  into 
which  we  had  plunged.  Once  they  turned  suddenly  about, 
jerking  round  the  carrito  in  a  very  narrow  passage,  with  an 
evident  design  to  return  to  their  stable.     At  length,  after  a 


SAX.  165 

series  of  marvellous  escapes  from  being  overturned  or  dashed 
against  the  walls  of  the  houses,  we  reached  the  Queen's  high- 
way in  safety,  and  extinguished  our  light. 

With  a  passable  road,  and  a  better  carriage,  this  day's 
journey  would  have  been  delightful.  When  the  sun  rose  we 
found  ourselves  in  a  picturesque  country,  bordering  a  little 
stream,  the  Segura,  I  believe,  and  here  lay  the  town  of  Sax 
on  the  side  of  a  hill,  which  towered  above  it — a  high  rock, 
full  of  yawning  holes  and  caverns,  and  crowned  with  an  old 
abandoned  castle.  We  did  not  enter,  but  left  it  a  little  way 
off  on  our  right,  basking  in  the  sunshine  of  a  pleasant  morn- 
ing. It  rang  with  the  incessant  cackling  of  hens,  the  cries 
of  children,  and  the  shrill  voices  of  women.  Craggy  moun- 
tain summits  all  around  us  kept  watch  over  smooth  valleys, 
and  along  the  huerta  which  bordered  the  stream,  the  peasants 
were  cutting  and  carrying  home  the  fresh  stalks  of  the 
maize,  which  had  been  sown  for  fodder.  Beside  the  road 
were  green  fields  of  the  Windsor  bean  and  trefoil — the  trefoil 
which  is  so  tender,  juicy  and  brittle  in  its  winter  growth, 
that,  as  I  remember,  in  Egypt  it  is  often  eaten  as  a  salad. 

The  road,  however,  seemed  to  grow  worse  as  the  country 
became  more  worth  looking  at;  the  mire  was  deeper,  and 
the  way  marked  with  deeper  furrows  by  the  wheels  of  the 
heavy  galeras.  The  day  before  we  had  discovered  that  our 
driver  had  an  unlucky  knack  of  locking  the  wheels  of  his 
cart  with  those  of  the  other  vehicles  he  met,  and  once  or 
twice  had  caused  our  baggage  to  scrape  in  a  most  perilous 
manner  against  their  muddy  wheels.     He  was  now  to  show 


166  AN     ACCIDENT. 

US  that  his  accomplishments  went  further  than  this.  I  had 
taken  a  long  walk  of  two  or  three  hours  that  morning,  for  it 
was  an  easy  feat  to  keep  pace  with  our  horses  in  walking ; 
and  now,  in  approaching  the  town  of  Elda,  the  ladies  of  our 
party  had  become  so  fatigued  with  the  incessant  jolting  they 
had  endured,  that  they  dismounted,  and  picked  their  way  on 
foot  by  the  side  of  the  road.  Our  carrito  had  entered  the 
town  of  Elda,  the  driver  walking  beside  his  horses,  when,  as 
it  turned  a  corner,  the  right  wheel  striking  against  the  check 
stone  and  rising  over  it,  overturned  the  vehicle  with  all  the 
baggage,  bringing  the  wheel-horse  to  the  ground.  When  we 
came  up  with  our  driver,  he  was  looking  ruefully  at  what  he 
had  done,  and  apparently  meditating  what  he  should  do 
next.  He  soon  had  plenty  of  advisers  and  assistants ;  and 
leaving  our  courier  with  him  to  see  to  our  baggage,  we  with- 
drew from  the  crowd  that  were  gathering  about  us  and  star- 
ing at  us  most  unmercifully,  and  followed  a  by-street  leading 
round  a  corner  of  the  town  to  where  the  main  road  again  issued 
into  the  fields.  Here,  while  waiting  for  our  carrito,  we  had  a 
good  opportunity  to  observe  the  situation  of  Elda.  It  lies  in 
a  rich  plain,  among  mountains  ;  a  few  date  palms,  the  first 
we  had  seen  in  Spain,  rising  above  the  houses  and  all  the 
other  trees,  give  the  place  a  tropical  aspect.  We  had  been 
made  sensible  all  the  morning  that  we  had  entered  within 
the  bounds  of  a  more  genial  climate  than  that  of  Madrid. 
The  air  was  like  that  of  early  June  with  us,  and  there  was 
never  a  softer  or  pleasanter  sunshine  than  that  which  shone 
about  us. 


FOUL     ROADS.  161 

In  about  twenty  minutes  Jose  rejoined  us  with  his  cart, 
and  we  all  got  in  again.  By  that  good  fortune  which 
strangely  attends  some  careless  people,  neither  the  vehicle, 
nor  the  horses,  nor  the  harness,  nor  our  luggage,  had  sus- 
tained the  slightest  damage.  We  were  now  in  the  huerta  of 
Elda  ;  on  each  side  of  the  road  were  rows  of  olive  trees,i  the 
finest  and  most  luxuriant  of  their  kind,  loaded  with  fruit 
which  was  dropping  to  the  ground,  with  occasional  planta- 
tions of  sprawling  fig  and  branching  walnut-trees,  under  all 
which  the  ground  was  green  with  the  winter  crops  ;  but  the 
road  between  was  little  better  than  a  canal  of  mud,  and  so 
painfully  did  our  horses  flounder  through  it,  that  we  all  soon 
dismounted  a  second  time,  and  walked.  "  You  will  find  the 
road  better  a  league  or  so  ahead,"  said  a  man,  who,  accom- 
panied by  laborers,  was  trying  to  make  it  passable  in  some 
of  its  worst  parts. 

We  walked  on  more  than  two  miles  further,  when  having 
left  the  too  fat  soil  of  Elda  behind,  the  road  became  a  little 
better,  and  Jose  again  received  the  ladies  into  his  carrito. 
We  now  began  to  speculate  as  to  what  we  should  do  when 
we  should  arrive  at  our  next  stopping-place,  the  Venta  de  los 
Cuatro  Caminos,  which  is  Spanish  for  the  Four  Corners' 
•  Tavern — whether  we  should  get  another  cart  for  our  luggage, 
or  whether  we  should  hire  donkeys,  on  which  the  ladies 
might  make  part  at  least,  of  our  remaining  journey  to  Ali- 
cante, a  distance  of  three  or  four  leagues ;  I  could  not  learn 
exactly  which,  for  the  computation  of  distances  is  remarkably 
inexact  in  Spain.     Just  then  the  plain  in  which  stands  the 


I. 


168  A     PIECE     OF     GOOD     FORTUNE. 

Venta  de  los  Cuatro  Caminos  opened  upon  us,  a  broad  fertile 
tract,  swelling  into  pleasant  undulations  between  desolate 
mountain  ridges  ;  and  showing  at  one  view  three  or  four  con- 
siderable villages,  the  largest  of  which  was  Novelda,  and  be- 
side more  than  one  of  which  rose  lofty  groups  of  palm  trees. 
Our.  vehicle  had  already  crossed  a  railway,  the  unfinished 
part  of  that  which  is  to  unite  Alicante  to  Madrid,  when  our 
courier,  who  had  been  walking  all  the  way  from  Elda,  came 
running  after  us  with  the  good  news  that  a  train  of  open 
trucks  was  to  go  that  afternoon  to  Alicante,  and  that  if  we 
pleased  we  might  have  a  passage  in  it.  He  had  seen  the 
engine  smoking  at  a  little  distance,  and  the  fancy  had  taken 
him  to  inquire  if  that  did  not  offer  an  easier  means  of  con- 
veyance to  Alicante  than  the  one  we  had.  We  immediately 
paid  off  and  dismissed  our  Murcian  driver,  who  seemed  nearly 
as  glad  to  be  spared  the  rest  of  the  journey,  as  we  were  to 
get  out  of  his  cart.  But  here  we  were  met  with  a  new  diffi- 
culty ;  the  tickets  we  had  bought  for  Alicante  specified  that 
the  passengers  should  take  with  them  no  baggage.  On 
representing  our  case,  however,  to  the  principal  persons  in 
charge  of  the  train,  they  most  kindly  allowed  us  to  take  our 
trunks  and  travelling  bags  along  with  us,  and  treated  us 
with  the  greatest  courtesy.  After  waiting  some  time  for  the 
principal  engineer  to  arrive,  and  for  a  shower  to  pass  over, 
which  darkened  the  sky  and  smoked  on  the  hills  in  the 
quarter  to  which  we  were  about  to  proceed,  we  set  out, 
shielded  by  our  umbrellas  from  a  thin  rain  beating  in  our  ^ 
faces,     About  half  the  distance  between  the  station  of  No-j 


ALICANTE.  169 

velda  and  Alicante,  we  stopped  to  load  the  trucks  with 
broken  stone,  a  dirty  white  alabaster,  destined  to  be  used  in 
building,  after  which  we  went  on.  The  Mediterranean  soon 
glimmered  in  sight ;  then  appeared  a  bald  rock  with  a  fort 
on  its  summit,  and  the  other  drab-colored  heights  by  which 
Alicante  is  sheltered  ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  were  at  the 
terminus  of  the  railway.  Four  Yalencians  took  charge  of 
our  baggage,  which  had  required  but  two  porters  to  carry  it 
in  Madrid.  When  told  that  so  many  were  not  necessary, 
they  answered :  "  We  are  not  Gallegos  ;  we  are  not  beasts  of 
burden."  We  followed  them  through  a  short  avenue  of  elms, 
just  without  the  city,  beside  a  plantation  of  young  palm  trees, 
profusely  hung  with  their  large  clusters  of  fruit,  to  the  Fonda 
del  Vapor ^  where  we  found  pleasant  rooms,  and  sat  down  to 
an  excellent  dinner,  closed  by  a  plentiful  dessert  of  fruit, 
grapes  of  the  finest  quality  in  enormous  clusters,  and  dates 
just  ripened  and  fresh  from  the  trees  that  bore  them. 

Alicante  had  not  much  to  interest  us,  except  the  kind- 
ness of  the  American  Consul,  Mr.  Leach,  and  his  family,  and 
that  of  the  other  persons  to  whom  we  had  letters,  and  who 
did  every  thing  in  their  power  to  make  our  stay  agreeable, 
while  we  waited  for  a  steamer  bound  for  the  southern  parts 
of  Spain.  It  is  a  decayed  town  of  great  antiquity ;  its  peo- 
ple carry  on  a  little  commerce  in  wine,  raisins,  and  a  few 
other  productions  of  the  fertile  region  around  it ;  a  small 
number  of  vessels  lie  in  its  port,  and  now  and  then  one  of 
them  is  freighted  with  wine  for  the  United  States.  The 
streets  are  for  the  most  part  unpaved,  and  I  could  not  suc- 
8 


170  A     GOOD     MAN. 

ceed  in  finding  a  pleasant  walk  in  the  environs  of  the  city. 
"  We  are  too  poor  to  pave  our  streets,"  said  one  of  the  resi- 
dents to  me ;  yet  the  hope  is  cherished  that  Alicante  will 
become  the  seat  of  a  great  commerce,  after  the  railway  to 
Madrid  shall  have  been  opened.  Already  they  are  begin- 
ning to  build  a  little,  in  expectation  of  that  event ;  but  this 
is  done  sluggishly.  It  will  require  some  powerful,  immediate 
impulse  to  break  the  dead  sleep  which  for  centuries  has  set- 
tled on  that  ancient  seat  of  trade. 

I  said  that  Alicante  had  not  much  to  interest  us ;  let  me 
recall  the  expression.  I  saw  at  Alicante  what  interested  me 
more  than  almost  any  thing  else  which  I  met  with  in  Spain, 
the  monument  of  a  man  most  remarkable  for  active  and  dis- 
interested beneficence,  Don  Trino  Gonzalez  de  Quijano,  who 
was  the  'civil  Governor  of  the  province  of  Alicante  from  the 
22d  of  August,  1852,  to  the  16th  of  September  in  the  same 
year,  while  the  cholera  was  carrying  ofi"  its  thousands,  and 
filling  the  province  with  consternation.  In  early  life  Quijano 
had  been  a  soldier,  and  was  always  a  zealous  constitution- 
alist. Those  with  whom  he  acted  had  entrusted  him  succes- 
sively with  the  administrative  power  in  several  of  the  prov- 
inces of  the  kingdom,  and  he  had  made  himself  so  popular 
in  the  Canary  Islands,  to  which  he  had  been  sent  by  the 
government,  that  they  elected  him  their  representative  to 
the  Cortes.  Immediately  upon  his  arrival  at  Alicante,  he 
entered  actively  upon  the  work  of  mercy,  superintending  in 
person  every  measure  adopted  for  the  relief  of  the  sick  and 
their  families,  attending  at  their  bedsides,  administering  the 


HIS     HUMANE     LABOES.  171 

medicines  prescribed  by  the  physicians,  providing  for  the 
necessitous  out  of  his  private  fortune,  and  when  that  was  ex- 
hausted, dispensing  the  contributions  of  those  who  were  in- 
cited to  generosity  by  his  generous  example.  As  the  circle 
of  the  pestilence  extended,  he  passed  from  one  town  to  an- 
other, sometimes  in  the  night  and  sometimes  in  the  midst  of 
tempests,  carrying,  wherever  he  went,  succor  and  consola- 
tion, and  assuaging  the  general  alarm  by  his  own  serene 
presence  of  mind.  When  his  friends  expressed  their  fears 
lest  his  humane  labors  might  cost  him  his  life,  "It  is  very 
likely  they  may,"  he  answered,  "  but  my  duty  is  plain,  and 
if  I  can  check  the  spread  of  the  cholera  by  laying  down  my 
life,  I  shall  lay  it  down  cheerfully."  He  was  attacked  at 
length  by  the  distemper,  but  not  till  he  had  the  satisfaction 
of  seeing  its  violence  greatly  abated.  "  Do  not  call  in  the 
physicians,"  he  said,  "  it  will  create  a  panic  and  make  new 
victims ;  let  it  not  be  known,  if  you  can  help  it,  that  I  died 
of  the  cholera." 

Quijano  died,  to  the  great  grief  of  those  whom  he  had 
succored,  and  for  whom  he  had  literally  laid  down  his  life. 
Three  years  he  lay  in  his  grave,  and  as  soon  as  the  physi- 
cians pronounced  that  it  could  be  done  without  danger  to 
the  public  health,  his  coffin  was  taken  up  and  opened.  The 
features  were  found  to  be  little  altered ;  it  seemed  that  even 
corruption  had  respected  and  spared  the  form  in  which  once 
dwelt  so  noble  a  soul.  The  people  of  the  province,  in  silence 
and  wonder,  came  in  crowds  about  the  lifeless  corpse  and 
kissed  its  hand ;  mothers  led  up  their  children  to  look  at  all 


172  HIS     FUNEEAL. 

that  was  left  of  the  good  man,  to  whom  they  owed  their  own 
lives  and  those  of  their  husbands.  The  corner-stone  of  a 
monument  was  laid,  to  which  the  towns  composing  the  prov- 
ince of  Alicante  contributed.  It  stands  a  little  without  the 
northern  gate  of  the  city,  a  four-sided  tapering  shaft,  in- 
scribed with  the  names  of  the  grateful  towns  which  he  suc- 
cored— Alicante,  Alcoy,  Montforte,  Elche,  and  others — rest- 
ing on  a  pedestal  which  bears  a  medallion  head  of  Quijano 
and  inscriptions  in  his  honor.  May  it  stand  as  long  as  the 
world. 

I  love  and  honor  Spain  for  having  produced  such  a  man 
as  Quijano.  A  pamphlet  is  before  me,  consisting  of  the  ad- 
dresses made  and  poems  recited  on  laying  the  corner-stone  of 
the  monument  under  which  he  was  again  committed  to  the 
earth— florid  prose  and  such  verse  as  is  easily  produced  in  the 
harmonious  language  of  Castile.  I  only  wish  that  in  some 
part  of  it  a  plain  recital  had  been  given  of  his  numerous  acts 
of  beneficence,  that  I  might  have  made  this  brief  account 
more  particular,  and,  of  course,  more  interesting. 


A     SPANISH     GALERA.  1^3 


LETTEK    XVI. 

A   JOURNEY   FROM  ALICANTE   TO   MURCIA. 

Malaga,  December  2ndy  IBS'?. 
I  HAD  become  quite  tired  of  waiting  at  Alicante  for  a 
steamer  bound  for  the  southern  ports  of  Spain ;  yet  the  roads 
were  so  bad  that  none  of  our  party  but  myself  would  venture 
to  perform  any  part  of  the  journey  by  land.  I  therefore  de- 
termined to  proceed  by  myself  to  the  city  of  Murcia,  taking 
Elche  in  my  way,  and  thence  to  Carthagena,  on  the  coast, 
where  the  others  were  to  join  me.  At  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning  of  the  25th  of  November  I  was  waked  and  conduct- 
ed through  the  miry  and  silent  streets  to  the  office  of  the  dil- 
igence. Here  I  was  told  that,  on  account  of  the  badness  of 
the  roads,  the  passengers  were  not  to  be  sent  forward  as 
usual  in  a  coche,  but  in  a  galera,  which  means  a  sort  of  mar- 
ket-wagon without  springs,  running  on  a  large  pair  of  wheels 
behind,  and  a  small,  low  pair  next  to  the  horses.  In  taking 
my  passage,  I  had  paid  for  a  seat  in  the  herlina,  or  coupe,  as 
the  French  call  it,  and  as  the  galera  has  no  herlina,  I  was  told 
that  I  was  entitled  to  receive  twelve  reals  back.  I  took  the 
change,  and  soon  found  myself  packed  in  the  wagon  with 
eight  other  passengers,  who  did  not  seem  in  the  best  humor; 


114:  CIGAREITOS.        MATCHES. 

possibly  on  account  of  the  change  in  the  mode  of  conveyance 
— nor  did  they  quite  recover  their  spirits  during  the  whole 
journey.  They  consoled  themselves  with  rolling  up  small 
quantities  of  finely-chopped  tobacco  in  little  bits  of  paper,  to 
make  cigarritos,  and  quietly  smoking  them  out.  For  this  pur- 
pose every  true  Spaniard  carries  with  him  a  little  unbound 
volume  of  half  the  size  of  a  pocket  almanac,  composed  of  thin 
leaves  of  blank  paper,  one  of  which  he  tears  off  every  time 
he  has  occasion  to  make  a  cigarrito,  and  drawing  a  quantity 
of  chopped  tobacco  from  a  small  bag,  folds  it  with  quick  and 
dexterous  fingers  into  a  compact  cylinder,  and  lighting  a  luci- 
fer  match  with  a  smart  explosion,  raises  a  smoke  in  as  little 
time  as  is  needed  to  read  these  lines.  There  is  one  respect 
in  which  Spanish  industry  takes  the  lead  of  the  world — the 
making  of  lucifer  matches  for  smokers.  A  slender  wick  of 
two  inches  in  length  is  dipped  in  wax  of  snowy  whiteness, 
and  tipped  with  a  little  black  knob  of  explosive  matter,  look- 
ing like  the  delicate  anther  of  some  large  flower.  Struck 
against  the  gritty  side  of  the  little  box  which  contains  it,  the 
Spanish  match  starts  into  a  flame  which  requires  more  than 
a  slight  puff  of  wind  to  blow  it  out,  and  which  lasts  long 
enough  for  a  very  deliberate  smoker  to  light  any  but  the  most 
refractory  cigar. 

Our  galera  was  dragged  out  of  town  in  the  glare  of  two 
torches,  by  eight  mules,  going  at  a  pretty  smart  trot ;  but 
when  the  light  of  morning  became  so  strong  that  the  snap  of 
a  lucifer  match  was  no  longer  followed  by  an  illumination  of 
the  inside  of  our  wagon,  we  saw  that  we  were  travelling  in  what 


ELCHE     AND     ITS     PALM     GROVES.  175 

could  not  be  called  a  highway  but  by  a  gross  misapplication 
of  terms.  It  was  from  three  to  five  rods  in  width,  and  worn 
considerably  lower  than  the  fields  through  which  it  passed, 
so  that  the  rain-water  flowed  readily  into  it,  and  found  no  pas- 
sage out,  making  it  a  long,  narrow  quagmire.  Yet  we  were 
in  the  midst  of  a  pleasant  huerta,  for  here  were  groves  of 
olive  trees,  full  of  fruit,  and  rows  of  the  dark  green  lentisk,  from 
which  the  fleshy  pods  had  been  gathered,  and  lines  of  mul- 
berry trees,  already  bare,  and  sallow  pomegranate  bushes,  and 
fig  trees  beginning  to  drop  their  foliage.  Above  these  tow- 
ered here  and  there  a  giant  palm,  and,  finally,  at  a  distance, 
appeared  a  great  wood  of  palm  trees,  which  seemed  to  fill 
half  the  horizon,  like  those  which  in  Egypt  overshadow  the 
mounds  that  mark  the  site  of  Memphis,  or  those  through  which 
the  traveller  passes  on  his  way  from  Cairo  to  Heliopolis.  We 
were  approaching  Elche,  the  inhabitants  of  which  have  tend- 
ed their  groves  of  palm,  refreshing  the  trees  with  rills  of  wa- 
ter guided  to  their  roots  in  the  dry  season,  and  gathering 
their  annual  harvest  of  dates  in  the  month  of  November,  ever 
since  the  time  of  the  Moors.  I  seemed  to  have  been  at  once 
taken  from  Europe,  and  set  down  in  the  East.  The  work 
people  whom  I  saw  beginning  their  tasks  in  the  fields,  or  go- 
ing to  them  along  the  road,  reminded  me  of  the  Orientals. 
The  Majo  cap  which  they  wore,  without  being  a  turban,  im- 
itates its  form  in  such  a  manner,  that  at  a  little  distance  it 
might  be  easily  taken  for  one ;  and  their  gay-colored  sashes 
worn  around  the  waist,  their  wide  white  drawers  reaching 
just  below  the  knee,  and  their  hempen  sandals,  the  next  thing 


jyP  INHABITANTS     OF     ELCHE. 

to  slippers,  heightened  the  resemblance.  In  our  journey  from 
Almansa  to  Alicante  we  had  often,  as  we  approached  the  sea- 
coast,  met  with  cartmen  and  wagoners  dressed  in  this  half 
Oriental  garb ;  but  now  we  were  on  the  spot  where  it  was  the 
household  costume,  and  where  the  needles  were  plied  by  which 
it  was  shaped. 

Passing  by  a  large  plantation  of  young  palms,  just  begin- 
ning to  rise  from  the  ground,  with  trenches  from  one  to  anoth- 
er along  the  rows,  leading  the  water  to  their  roots,  we  entered 
the  great  wood.  There  were  palms  on  both  sides  of  the  way, 
standing  as  near  to  each  other  as  they  could  well  grow ;  some 
of  them  tall,  the  growth  of  centuries,  others  short,  though 
equal  in  breadth  of  stem  and  reared  within  the  last  fifty  years. 
They  hung  out  in  the  morning  sunshine  their  clusters  of  dates, 
light  green,  yellow,  or  darkening  into  full  ripeness ;  clusters 
large  enough  to  fill  a  half  bushel  basket,  while  their  rigid 
leaves  rustjed  with  a  dry  hissing  sound  in  a  light  wind. 

Our  vehicle  staggered  on  in  the  miry  streets,  between 
low  stone  walls,  and  amidst  a  crowd  of  men  and  women  go- 
ing forth  to  the  labors  of  the  day,  entered  the  streets  ot 
Elche,  embowered  in  this  forest.  I  saw  that  all  the  houses 
had  flat  roofs — another  resemblance  to  the  towns  in  the  East. 
I  looked  around  me  for  similar  resemblance  in  the  people  by 
whom  the  place  is  inhabited,  and  fancied  that  I  found  them. 
The  people  have  dark  complexions,  bright,  dark  eyes,  nar- 
row faces,  and  for  the  most  part  high  features  and  peaked 
chins,  and  slight  and  slender  figures ;  such,  at  least,  was  the 
sum  of  observations  made  in  the  slight  opportunity  afforded 


MOENING     CUP     OF     CHOCOLATE.  177 

me.  I  did  not  see  the  wide  white  drawers  so  frequently  in 
the  streets  as  I  had  seen  them  in  the  fields.  The  knee- 
breeches  and  ample  brown  cloak  of  Castile  were  a  more  com- 
mon sight. 

Our  mules  were  stopped  at  an  inn,  where  they  were  to 
be  changed,  and  where  the  passengers  were  told  that  they 
could  have  a  cup  of  chocolate.  It  was  now  about  half  past 
seven  in  the  morning.  In  a  little  room  on  the  ground  floor, 
near  the  stables,  two  or  three  persons  sitting  at  a  table  were 
satisfying  their  early  appetite  with  toasted  bread  or  hiscochos, 
a  sort  of  sponge  cake,  which  they  first  dipped  in  a  little  cup 
of  very  thick  chocolate.  I  followed  their  example.  All 
over  the  kingdom  the  Spaniard  breaks  his  morniug  fast  on 
chocolate  ;  it  is  the  universal  household  beverage  ;  the  manu- 
factories of  chocolate — chocolate  mills  I  might  call  them — 
are  more  numerous  than  the  Mdndmills.  Those  who  take 
coffee  drink  it  at  the  cafes,  as  an  occasional  refreshment,  just 
as  they  take  an  ice  cream ;  and  the  use  of  tea,  though  on 
the  increase,  is  by  no  means  common.  The  only  narcotic  in 
which  the  Spaniards  indulge  to  any  extent  is  tobacco,  in 
favor  of  which  I  have  nothing  to  say ;  yet  it  should  be  re- 
membered, in  extenuation,  that  they  are  tempted  to  this 
liabit  by  the  want  of  something  else  to  do ;  that  they  hus- 
band their  cigarritos  by  smoking  with  great  deliberation, 
making  a  little  tobacco  go  a  great  way,  and  that  they  dilute 
its  narcotic  fumes  with  those  of  the  paper  in  which  it  is 
folded.  With  regard  to  the  use  of  wine,  I  can  confirm  all 
that  has  been  said  of  Spanish  sobriety  and  moderation,  and 
8* 


178  ORANGE     GROVES. 

must  add  that  I  find  the  number  of  those  who  never  drink  it 
larger  than  I  had  supposed. 

In  walking  about  the  streets  of  Elche,  I  found  myself 
quite  as  much  a  curiosity  to  the  people  of  the  place  as  they 
were  to  me,  and  as  they  were  several  hundred  to  one,  the 
advantage  in  this  encounter  of  eyes  was  clearly  on  their  side. 
So  I  beat  a  retreat,  and  got  back  to  the  inn,  from  which,  at 
a  little  past  eight,  w^e  again  set  out,  and  splashed  out  ot 
Elche  as  we  had  entered  it,  among  palms  standing  thick  on 
each  side,  and  overshadowing  the  muddy  way  with  their 
scaly  trunks,  their  plumy  foliage,  and  their  heavy  clusters  of 
fruit  hanging  down  below  the  leaves,  as  if  to  tempt  the  gath- 
erer. The  road  now  became  worse  than  ever,  and,  at  the 
request  of  the  conductor,  we  all  got  out  and  walked  for  a 
considerable  distance.  Here  were  hedges  of  the  aloe  plant 
beside  the  way,  and  thickets  of  that  gigantic  kind  of  cactus 
called  the  prickly  pear  were  in  sight,  allowed  to  grow,  I  sup- 
pose, for  the  sake  of  their  fruit.  We  were  still  in  the  region 
of  palms,  some  groups  of  which  were  so  lofty  that  it  seemed 
to  me  easy  to  prove,  by  counting  the  circles  in  their  bark, 
made  by  each  annual  growth  of  leaves,  that  they  had  been 
planted  by  the  Moors.  The  village  of  La  Granja,  close  by 
a  range  of  bare,  brown  precipices,  had  a  noble  group,  and 
was  suTj'ounded  by  young  plantations  of  palms,  which  at 
some  future  day  will  screen  it  from  the  sight  of  the  traveller 
till  he  enters  it.  At  La  Granja  we  passed  an  extensive 
orange  grove,  lying  in  the  mild  sunshine,  with  abundance  of 
golden  fruit  spotting  the  dark  green  foliage,  and  guarded  by 


SPANISH     OP     THE     SOUTH     OF     SPAIN.         1Y9 

a  high  and  thick  hedge.  We  drove  through  a  gap  in  that 
range  of  precipices  to  Callosa,  and  here  were  other  orange 
groves ;  and  now  we  came  at  length  in  sight  of  Orihuela, 
where  on  each  side  of  the  way  were  rows  of  young  palms 
just  springing  from  the  ground,  which  will  one  day  supply  the 
markets  of  Madrid. 

At  this  place  the  diligence  stopped  to  bait,  and  I  had  the 
honor  of  a  seat  at  the  same  table  with  the  conductor.  A  mess 
of  some  undistinguishable  materials,  chopped  up  with  an 
abundance  of  garlic,  was  placed  before  him,  while  I  contented 
myself  with  eggs  and  bread,  a  bit  of  cheese  and  a  dessert  of 
fruit ;  and  we  both  had  the  company  of  the  landlady,  a  very 
'  stout  and  rosy  woman,  who  sat  by  us  and  chatted  and  gos- 
sipped  incessantly.  She  was  curious  to  know  of  what  coun- 
try I  was.  "A  Frenchman,  certainly."  "No."  "Not 
French  ;  then  you  must  be  English."  "  I  am  not  English." 
"From  Germany,  then?"  "Not  a  German,  but  an  Ameri- 
can." She  looked  at  me  narrowly,  as  if  with  a  purpose  to 
satisfy  herself  in  what  respect  an  American  differed  from  a 
European.  "And  how  do  you  like  our  country  ?  "  I  could 
not  but  praise  what  I  had  seen  of  it  that  day.  "  And  you 
understand  all  we  say  ?  "  I  would  not  admit  my  ignorance  of 
the  local  dialect,  and  yet,  I  confess,  I  was  obliged  to  pay  the 
strictest  attention  to  be  always  tolerably  certain  of  what  she 
was  saying.  In  the  south  of  Spain  the  Castilian  loses  its 
clear,  open  pronimciation,  and  all  its  majesty.  Among  other 
peculiarities,  the  natives,  who  like  to  do  every  thing  in  the 
easiest  way,  neglect  to  pronounce  the  letter  s  in  many  words, 


180  OLIVE     GROVES. 

and  decline  giving  themselves  the  trouble  of  articulating  the 
letter  d  between  two  vowels.  Thus,  you  will  hear  este  pro- 
nounced ete ;  dado  in.  their  mouths  becomes  d(io;  nay,  casa 
is  sometimes  contracted  to  caa.  It  is  just  as  if  in  English 
we  were  to  say  diet  instead  of  chest,  louer  instead  of  louder, 
and  hou  instead  of  house. 

Before  setting  out  again,  I  walked  about  the  town,  which 
presented  little  worthy  of  notice ;  Orihuela  being  curious  only 
in  one  sense,  that  is  to  say,  in  the  disposition  which  the  peo- 
ple in  the  streets  manifest  to  scrutinize  the  appearance  of 
those  who  seem  to  be  foreigners.  Beyond  Orihuela  the  road 
was  rough  with  stones,  rammed  into  the  clayey  soil,  making 
a  kind  of  rude  pavement,  over  which  we  were  jolted  without  ' 
mercy ;  but  we  were  compensated  for  this  inconvenience  by 
the  pleasant  sights  which  our  journey  showed  us.  Along  the 
fertile  huerta,  through  which  we  were  travelling,  lay  here  and 
there  extensive  olive  groves,  composed  of  as  fine  trees  of  their 
kind  as  I  ever  saw,  stretching  away  to  the  right  and  left, 
sometimes  as  far  as  the  ranges  of  desolate  rock  that  overlook 
the  country.  They  were  loaded  with  fruit,  which  was  dropping 
to  the  ground  ;  and  now  that  the  olive  harvest  was  come,  the 
soil  under  the  trees  had  been  carefully  levelled,  and  the  peas- 
ants were  shaking  the  boughs,  picking  up  the  olives,  and  car- 
rying them  away  in  panniers.  Although  so  late  in  Novem- 
ber, the  sun  was  shining  with  a  genial  light,  like  that  of  our 
blandest  October  days.  An  hour  or  two  before  his  setting,  I 
saw  where  the  proprietors  had  come  out  to  superintend  the 
tasks  of  the  laborers,  or   to   entertain  their  families   and 


OLIVE     GATHERERS.  181 

friends  with  the  spectacle  of  the  olive  harvest.  Amidst 
groups  of  the  peasantry,  vigorously  shaking  the  boughs  and 
filling  the  panniers,  chairs  were  placed,  where,  under  the  shel- 
ter of  some  broad  tree,  sat  ladies,  while  children  sported  and 
shouted  around  them,  or  gave  their  help  to  the  workpeople. 
At  a  later  hour,  as  the  air  grew  chilly,  we  saw  several  of  these 
parties  returning  to  their  houses. 


182  MUECIA. 


LETTEE   XVII. 

MURCIA CARTAGENA ALMERIA. 

Malaga,  December  2c?,  1867. 

It  was  nightfall  when  our  conveyance  reached  Murcia. 
"  Where  will  you  stop  %  "  asked  the  conductor ;  "  at  the  Fon- 
da Francesa,  I  suppose."  He  was  right ;  and  a  boy  was 
called  to  carry  my  travelling  bag  and  show  me  the  place.  I 
was  led  through  crooked  and  narrow  ways,  Avhere  in  many 
places  the  water  lay  in  plashes,  to  the  dreary  inn,  the  best 
in  Murcia,  situated  in  a  gloomy  street,  where  a  French  wait- 
er, who  had  not  been  long  enough  in  the  country  to  speak 
Spanish,  showed  me  a  room,  and  seemed  glad  to  meet  with  a 
guest  who  understood  his  own  language.  I  had  a  letter  for 
a  gentleman  in  the  Murcian  capital,  furnished  me  by  a  Span- 
ish acquaintance  in  Madrid,  and  leaving  my  luggage  at  the 
inn,  I  made  my  guide  conduct  me  to  his  house  in  the  Calle  de 
Contrasta.  Unfortunately,  the  gentleman  was  not  in,  and  I 
went  back  to  the  inn  to  write  up  my  journal. 

The  mosquitos  interrupted  and  shortened  the  sleep  of 
that  November  night,  and  at  an  early  hour  I  was  walking 
about  the  city  and  peeping  into  the  churches.     The  streets 


THE     CATHEDRAL.  183 

of  Murcia  are  narrow  and  irregular,  and  some  of  them  have 
only  a  narrow  strip  of  pavement  on  the  sides  for  foot  passen- 
gers, like  those  of  Damascus.  The  houses  that  overlook  them 
are  often  painted  yellow  or  pink.  Of  the  churches,  I  found 
only  the  cathedral  worthy  of  much  attention.  It  has  a  tower 
built  after  some  modification  of  classic  architecture,  so  lofty 
and  massive  that  it  deserves  to  be  noble  and  beautiful,  but  it 
has  neither  beauty  nor  majesty ;  and  the  foundation  having 
settled  on  one  side,  it  leans  awkwardly  away  from  the  main 
building.  An  old  Gothic  portal  forms  the  northern  entrance 
of  the  Cathedral,  and  if  the  building  had  been  finished  ac- 
cording to  the  original  plan,  it  would  have  been  an  excellent 
sample  of  the  severer  Gothic ;  but  as  one  century  went  by 
after  another,  the  later  builders,  proceeding  from  east  to  west, 
ran  into  the  Koman  style,  and  spoiled  the  work.  One  of  the 
chapels  at  the  east  end  is  finished  in  a  very  singular  and 
striking  manner ;  the  walls  are  wrought  into  a  net-work  of 
interwoven  rods  and  twigs,  here  receding  to  leave  niches, 
and  there  growing  into  canopies,  pedestals,  and  other  archi- 
tectural appendages — freakish,  but  exceedingly  ingenious  and 
graceful.  The  principal  front  of  the  Cathedral  is  in  that 
over-ornamented  style  into  which  the  Spanish  architects,  two 
hundred  years  ago  or  thereabout,  corrupted  the  classic  orders. 
It  is  stocked  with  an  army  of  statues — the  martyrs,  saints  and 
confessors  of  the  church — all  in  violent  action,  all  with  flut- 
tering drapery,  gesticulating,  brandishing  crosiers  and  scrolls, 
or  wielding  ponderous  volumes.  If  one  could  suppose  them 
living,  they  might  seem  a  host  of  madmen  at  the  windows 


184  CURIOSITY     OF     THE     PEOPLE. 

and  balconies  of  an  insane  asylum,  ready  to  fling  themselves 
at  the  heads  of  the  spectators  below  ;  and  yet,  with  all  this, 
there  is  a  certain  florid  magnificence  about  this  part  of  the 
Cathedral  which  detains  the  attention. 

As  I  was  looking  at  this  array  of  the  church  militant,  I 
found  myself  the  object  of  very  close  observation  from  the 
people  in  the  great  square,  and  to  avoid  it,  entered  the  Ca- 
thedral. In  returning  to  my  inn  I  was  stared  at,  I  think, 
more  remorselessly  than  I  had  been  anywhere  else  in  Europe, 
except  perhaps  in  North  Holland.  People  would  pass  me  in 
the  street  at  a  quick  pace,  and  then  turn  to  get  a  good  look. 
Yet  the  number  of  odd  costumes  in  the  city  of  Murcia  ap- 
peared to  me  greater  than  I  had  seen  in  any  other  part  of 
Spain.  Not  to  speak  of  the  hats  of  all  shapes — the  sugar 
loaf,  the  cylindrical  beaver,  the  priests'  enormous  brim,  the 
cocked  hat  of  the  Civil  Guard,  and  the  wide-awake,  black  or 
brown — not  to  mention  caps  of  every  form,  from  the  velvet 
one  of  the  Mojo  to  the  broad-topped  cap  of  the  Basque,  and 
of  every  color  of  the  rainbow — ^here  were  knee-breeches  by 
the  side  of  pantaloons ;  here  were  short,  wide,  white  drawers ; 
worn  by  men  in  crimson  sashes  and  white  shirts,  unjacketed ; 
here  were  legs  cased  in  embroidered  leathern  gaiters,  and 
other  legs  covered  with  white  or  blue  woollen  hose,  reaching 
from  the  knee  to  the  ankle,  and  showing  the  bare  chocolate- 
colored  foot  above  the  sandal ;  here  where  some  who,  over 
their  short,  white  drawers,  wore  another  garment  looped  at 
the  sides,  and  jauntily  left  half  open ;  and  here  were  men 
who,  in  the  clull  of  the  morning,  wore  shawls  with  broad 


VARIETY     OF     COSTUMES.  185 

stripes  of  brilliant  scarlet  or  crimson,  alternating  with  black 
and  white — a  Moorish  inheritance — the  very  hornous  of  the 
Arabs,  wliich  is  to  be  found  at  this  moment  in  the  French 
shops,  where  it  is  exposed  as  the  last  ladies'  fashion,  just  from 
Algiers.  Yet,  with  all  this  diversity  of  garb,  the  slightest 
new  peculiarity  attracts  attention.  You  see  mustachios  on 
every  third  man  at  least,  but  let  one  come  among  them  whose 
beard  is  not  of  some  well-known  familiar  cut,  and  the  whole 
town  is  electrified  with  wonder. 

I  did  not  wait  to  see  the  gentleman  to  whom  I  had  a  let- 
ter of  introduction,  though,  if  I  had,  I  should  have  seen  Murcia 
to  much  better  advantage,  for  the  Spaniard  is  the  most  oblig- 
ing of  men  when  you  have  such  an  occasion  for  his  atten- 
tions ;  but  fearing  that  the  steamer  from  Alicante  might  reach 
Cartagena  before  me,  I  determined  to  proceed.  There  was 
a  galera  going  out  to  Cartagena  at  eleven  o'clock  that  morn- 
ing ;  there  was  a  diligence  which  would  set  out  at  nine  in 
the  evening.  I  chose  the  humbler  mode  of  conveyance,  be- 
cause I  preferred  to  travel  in  the  daytime,  though  the  favor- 
ite practice  in  Spain,  I  know  not  why,  is  to  begin  a  journey 
in  the  public  conveyances  at  night. 

In  a  covered  wagon,  without  springs,  drawn  by  three 
horses,  twelve  other  passengers  were  packed  with  me,  and 
we  left  Murcia  by  a  very  passable  road  which  led  us  through 
a  rich  plain,  planted  with  mulberry,  fig,  pomegranate,  len- 
tisk,  orange  and  lemon  trees,  a  few  palms  towering  above 
them  all.  My  fellow-passengers  were  mostly  mechanics,  la- 
boring men  and  tradespeople,  good-humored,  obliging,  and 


186  JOURNEY     TO     CARTAGENA. 

disposed  to  make  the  best  of  every  thing.  One  of  them  was 
a  decided  wag,  and  entertained  the  rest  with  his  jokes.  Two 
wore  the  wide  white  drawers  of  the  country,  which,  as  they 
sat,  showed  their  bare  brown  knees ;  they  had  on  crimson 
sashes,  white  knit  leggings  and  hempen  sandals.  The 
younger  of  these  was  as  handsome  a  youth,  I  think,  as  I 
ever  saw — his  features  would  have  been  a  study  for  the 
sculptor ;  in  Kome  he  might  make  his  fortune  by  sitting  as 
a  model  to  the  artists. 

We  rose  gradually  out  of  the  plain,  till,  on  looking  back, 
the  Cathedral  of  Murcia  appeared  of  a  mountainous  size  be- 
side the  city  dwellings,  and  its  lofty  tower  seemed  higher 
than  ever.  Beyond  the  city,  to  the  north,  stood  the  solitary 
rock  of  Monte  Agudo,  crowned  with  its  old  Moorish  castle, 
under  the  shadow  of  which  I  had  passed  the  day  before  in  ap- 
proaching Murcia.  Still  continuing  to  ascend,  we  threaded 
a  pass  between  arid  hills,  spotted  all  over  with  green  tufts  of 
a  little  palmetto,  somewhat  smaller  than  the  dwarf  palmetto 
of  South  Carolina  and  Florida,  and  then  descended  into  a 
plain  as  bare  and  dreary  as  those  of  Castile,  bounded  by  des- 
olate mountains.  The  country,  sinking  gradually  towards 
the  ocean  side,  began  to  clothe  itself  with  olive  groves ;  we 
passed  through  them ;  entered  an  avenue  of  elms,  in  a  fer- 
tile huerta^  and  Cartagena  was  before  us,  overlooked  by  half  a 
dozen  mountain  fortresses,  which  command  her  spacious  har- 
bor on  three  sides.  We  drove  through  a  long  street  between 
dingy  houses,  almost  blue  with  decay,  and  were  set  down  at 
the  entrance  of  a  large  stable.    I  procured  a  guide  to  the  Hotel 


CARTAGENA.  187 

of  the  Four  Nations,  Fonda  de  las  Cuatro  JVaciones,  kept  by 
a  Frenchman,  in  a  narrow,  dark  lane,  leading  out  of  the 
main  street,  and  here  I  got  a  lofty  room  lighted  by  one  great 
window,  where,  for  half  the  year  at  least,  the  sun  never 
entered.  I  remembered  my  experience  at  Murcia,  and 
asked  for  a  mosquito  net  to  my  bed,  but  none  was  to 
be  had,  and  that  night  the  mosquitos  came  humming 
about  me. 

The  hotel,  while  I  was  its  guest,  was  more  than  what  its 
name  imported — it  was  an  hotel  of  six  nations.  At  the  me- 
sa redonda,  or  ordinary,  were  assembled,  besides  myself,  an 
Italian  and  his  wife,  three  or  four  Spaniards,  a  chattering 
and  sometimes  smutty  Frenchman,  two  Germans,  one  silent 
and  the  other  excessively  loquacious,  and  two  English  com- 
mercial travellers,  one  modest  and  quiet  and  the  other  noisy 
and  impertinent.  It  is  generally  agreed,  I  believe,  that 
where  there  is  an  innate  propensity  to  loud  and  conceited 
talking,  the  profession  of  commercial  travellers  develops  it 
to  its  fullest  extent.  Two  tiresome  days  and  three  tiresome 
nights  I  passed  at  Cartagena,  wondering  when  the  steamer 
from  the  north  would  arrive.  I  employed  myself  in  writing 
this  letter,  and  for  recreation  walked  about  the  city  and  its 
neighborhood.  It  was  not  till  the  afternoon  of  the  day  fol- 
lowing my  arrival  that  I  discovered  what  a  remarkably  fine 
promenade  surrounds  the  city,  along  the  ramparts,  erected 
when  Cartagena  was  a  place  of  much  greater  consequence 
than  now. 

It  commanded  a  noble  view  of  sea,  mountain  and  val- 


188  SITE     OF     THE     TOWN. 

ley.  To  the  north  of  the  city,  a  marsh,  in  which  the  mos- 
quitos  that  tormented  me  the  night  before  were  bred,  and 
in  which  pools  of  water  were  lying,  formed  an  ugly  spot ; 
but  beyond  it,  the  ground  rose  gradually  into  a  rich  cham- 
pagne country.  As  I  looked  seaward,  I  thought  of  the  time 
when  the  prows  of  the  Carthaginians  first  broke  these  blue 
waters ;  I  thought  how  they  must  have  admired  this  noble 
bay,  which  they  afterwards  made  the  seat  of  a  great  com- 
merce, and  what  a  wonder  they  must  themselves  have  been 
to  the  barbarian  natives.  The  palms  which  I  saw  at  a  dis- 
tance were  perhaps  the  posterity  of  those  which  the  Cartha- 
ginian colonists  introduced  from  Africa.  I  thought  again 
of  the  time  when  the  conquering  galleys  of  the  Eomans  sailed 
in  between  these  rocky  promontories,  and  compelled  the 
colony  to  submit,  and  of  that  still  later  period  when  the 
Moors,  coming  over  from  Africa,  seized  upon  it  and  made  it 
one  of  their  strongholds  and  their  favorite  haven,  until  at 
length  it  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Christians,  and  gradually 
declined  from  its  ancient  importance. 

Cartagena  is  built  on  the  sides  of  four  rocky  hills,  en- 
closed within  the  circuit  of  its  walls.  I  climbed  to  a  ruined 
castle  on  the  top  of  one  of  them,  where  I  found  part  of  a 
Koman  wall  of  hewn  stone,  wholly  undecayed,  in  which  is 
fixed  a  tablet  bearing  a  Eoman  inscription,  with  letters  as 
sharp  and  distinct  as  if  freshly  cut.  Other  portions  of  the 
castle  are  said  by  the  antiquaries  to  be  the  work  of  Phoeni- 
cian hands.  Against  the  Boman  wall,  spacious  vaults,  built 
by  the  Moors,  with  the  form  of  arch  peculiar  to  them,  still 


ARRIVAL     OF     A     STEAMER.  189 

remain ;  and  thus  the  ruin  is  a  monument  of  three  great 
dominions,  which  have  successively  flourished  and  passed 
away. 

Cartagena  is  a  dull,  dreary  town,  but  it  has  its  spacious 
amphitheatre  for  bull-fights.  In  its  markets  I  found  the 
fruits  of  the  country  excellent,  abundant,  and  cheap ;  its 
large  clusters  of  grapes  still  fresh,  and  its  pomegranates  of 
the  finest  flavor  and  the  amplest  size.  I  was  complimented, 
as  I  walked  the  streets,  with  the  special  notice  of  the  inhab- 
itants— sometimes  rather  amusingly  manifested.  A  boy  who 
had  seen  me  approaching  at  some  distance,  got  together  his 
companions  to  look  at  me,  and  as  I  passed  them,  said  in  a 
voice  which  was  not  intended  for  my  ear — parece  loco — "  he 
seems  to  be  a  crazy  man." 

You  may  imagine  that  I  was  well  pleased,  when,  on  the 
third  morning,  the  mozo  came  to  my  room  to  announce  that 
a  steamer  had  arrived  from  the  north,  the  Tharsis^  which  is 
French  or  Spanish,  or  both,  for  Tarshish,  the  Land  of  Gold. 
A  short  time  afterwards  appeared  our  courier  with  the  news 
that  my  family  were  on  board  the  Tharsis,  and  expecting 
me.  I  was  not  slow  to  leave  my  gloomy  lodgings,  but  I  had 
first  to  get  the  leave  of  the  police  to  go  on  board  the  steamer 
as  a  passenger.  The  police  officer,  as  he  was  about  to  coun- 
tersign my  passport,  expressed  his  surprise  at  my  surname, 
which  he  said  was  the  same  with  that  of  a  brigadier-general 
commanding  at  Cartagena,  and  he  wrote  out  the  name  to 
show  that  it  was  composed  of  precisely  the  same  letters.  At 
last  I  was  permitted  to  go  on  board  the  steamer,  which, 


190  ALMERIA. 

about  sunset,  stood  out  of  the  bay,  and  early  the  next  morn- 
ing dropped  anchor  in  the  roadstead  of  Almeria. 

Almeria  has  left  a  distinct  image  in  my  memory.  I  see 
yet  its  range  of  bare,  white  mountain  ridges,  looking  as  if 
calcined  by  an  intense  fire,  herbless,  treeless,  reflecting  the 
sun  with  a  glare  painful  to  the  eye,  and  smoking  with  fur- 
naces in  which  the  lead  ore  drawn  from  their  bowels  is 
smelted.  I  see  yet  its  white  houses  and  fortresses  at  the  foot 
of  this  range,  and  eastward  of  these,  towards  the  sea,  its  cul- 
tivated plain,  a  sort  of  liuerta  overtopped  by  a  few  palms. 
The  wind  blew  fresh  all  day,  while  our  cargo  was  discharged 
and  lumps  of  lead  were  brought  to  us  in  boat-loads  from  the 
shore.  Our  steamer  rolled  incessantly  from  side  to  side, 
which  made  the  loading  slow  and  laborious,  and  several  of 
our  Spanish  passengers  were  so  sickened  by  this  motion  that 
they  left  us.  Among  them  was  one  who  came  on  board  at 
Alicante,  taking  passage  for  Malaga,  and  who  now  resolved 
to  perform  the  rest  of  the  journey  by  land.  This  peculiar 
liability  to  sea-sickness,  I  hear,  is  a  general  infirmity  of  the 
Spaniards,  and  from  what  has  come  under  my  observation, 
I  should  judge  that  the  remark  is  true.  In  a  mixed  com- 
pany of  passengers,  the  natives  of  Spain  seemed  to  suffer 
most. 

We  left  Almeria  a  little  before  sunset,  and  keeping  un- 
der the  shelter  of  the  shore,  with  a  west  wind,  we  got  on 
pretty  smoothly;  but  when  we  turned  a  cape  and  took  a 
westerly  course,  the  wind  came  sweeping  down  the  Straits  of 
Gibraltar,  and  tumbled  against  us  billows  that,  for  aught  I 


ARRIVAL     AT     MALAGA.  191 

know,  were  formed  in  the  Atlantic.  Our  steamer  was  a  pro- 
peller, and  easily  affected  by  the  motion  of  the  sea.  It  was 
a  great  relief  to  find  ourselves,  towards  morning,  in  smoother 
water ;  and  when  the  sun  rose  upon  us,  it  was  the  genial 
and  golden  sun  of  Malaga. 


192  CUSTOM-HOUSE     IMPOSITIONS. 


LETTEE    XVIII. 


MALAGA. 


Gran,  Algeria,  December  lY,  ISSY. 

It  was  a  beautiful  morning  on  which  we  landed  from  the 
steamer  Tharsis,  at  Malaga.  The  red  hills  which  rise  back 
of  the  city,  and  the  great  Cathedral  and  the  close  huddled 
roofs  around  it,  were  lying  in  a  golden  sunshine,  and  the  wa- 
ters of  the  harbor  were  swept  by  airs  as  mild  as  those  of  our 
June.  Nothing  could  be  more  bland  or  more  grateful  than 
the  welcome  which  the  climate  of  Malaga  gave  us — a  promise 
of  soft  and  serene  weather,  which  was  kept  up  to  the  time  of 
our  departure. 

They  have  a  way  of  making  strangers  who  land  at  Mala- 
ga pay  an  exorbitant  tax  on  their  luggage ;  a  fixed  rate  is 
exacted  for  every  separate  package,  great  or  small,  taken  from 
the  steamer  to  the  wharf ;  another  for  its  conveyance  to  the 
custom-house,  and  a  certain  tribute  on  every  thing  brought 
into  the  custom-house  ;  and  a  separate  charge  on  every  object 
conveyed  from  the  custom-house  to  the  hotel.  I  heard  of  an 
American  gentleman  who,  in  this  way,  by  some  ingenious 
construction  of  the  regulations  in  force,  was  made  to  pay 
twenty  dollars  ;  and  then  the  rogue  who  had  practised  this 


ASPECT     OF     THE     TOWN.  193 

imposition,  told  him  that  if  he  would  do  him  the  honor  of 
employing  him  when  he  should  leave  the  port,  he  would  put 
his  baggage  on  board  of  any  steamer  for  a  fifth  part  of  the 
money. 

In  the  Fonda  de  la  Alameda,  one  of  the  best  hotels  in 
Spain,  we  took  rooms  looking  upon  the  principal  public  walk 
of  the  city — a  broad  space,  planted  with  rows  of  trees,  most- 
ly elms,  which  had  not  yet,  on  the  first  of  December,  parted 
with  their  leaves.  The  sun  shone  pleasantly  into  our  windows 
for  nearly  the  whole  day,  and  we  felt  no  need  of  artificial 
warmth.  The  fine  weather  tempted  us  out  to  look  at  the 
town,  which  resembles  others  in  the  south  of  Spain  in  the 
narrowness  and  crookedness  of  its  streets ;  the  same  labyrinth 
of  ways,  no  doubt,  which  was  trodden  by  the  inhabitants  ages 
since,  when  they  wore  turbans.  It  is  proverbially  said  in  Ma- 
laga, that  a  priest  cannot  turn  round  in  them  without  knock- 
ing off  his  hat.  Many  of  them  have  a  short  stone  pillar 
placed  at  each  end  in  the  middle  of  the  passage,  to  prevent 
carriages  from  attempting  to  enter.  The  little  dark  shops  on 
each  side  are  scarcely  larger  than  the  narrow  and  shallow 
recesses  in  which  the  traders  of  Cairo  and  other  towns  in  the 
East  sit  squatted  among  their  merchandise ;  but  the  dwelling- 
houses,  when  the  open  street  doors  allowed  us  a  peep  at  the 
courts  within,  had  a  pleasanter  aspect.  Here  was  an  open 
square  paved  with  black  and  white  pebbles,  in  a  sort  of  mo- 
saic, representing  foliage  and  flowers,  and  surrounded  by  a 
gallery  resting  on  light  stone  columns  with  round  arches. 
In  the  niidst,  generally,  flowed  a  little  fountain,  and  the  place 
9 


194  PROTESTANT     BURIAL-GROUND. 

was  made  cheerful  by  orange  trees  and  other  ornamental  ev- 
ergreens, or  by  pots  of  flowers.  Our  walk  took  us  by  two  or 
three  fruit  markets,  in  which  lay  piles  of  oranges  on  mats, 
with  lemons  scarcely  turned  yellow,  and  baskets  of  pomegran- 
ates and  medlars,  but  no  grapes.  "  At  this  season  you  must 
not  look  for  fresh  grapes  in  Malaga,"  said  one  to  whom  I  ex- 
pressed my  surprise ;  "  however  abundant  they  may  be  in 
Cartagena  or  Alicante.  The  wines  we  send  abroad  bear  so 
high  a  price  at  the  present  time,  that  all  our  grapes  go  to 
the  wine-press,  and  after  the  vintage  there  is  not  one  to  be 
seen." 

One  of  the  earliest  walks  I  took  in  Malaga  conducted  me 
to  the  Protestant  burial-ground,  in  which  lie  several  of  our 
countrymen.  The  first  grant  of  a  piece  of  land  for  this  pur- 
pose was  made  by  the  Spanish  government  to  the  late  Mr. 
Mark,  the  British  consul,  who  obtained  it  after  long  and  per- 
severing solicitation.  Before  this,  the  bodies  of  those  who 
died  at  Malaga  without  professing  the  faith  of  the  Latin 
Church,  were  buried  on  the  sea-beach  at  low  water  mark.  The 
funeral  procession  bore  the  bier  to  where  the  last  receding 
wave  left  bare  the  bottom  of  the  deep :  a  hasty  grave  was 
scooped  in  the  wet  sands,  and  the  coffin  laid  in  a  spot  over 
which  the  waters  would  immediately  return,  and  over  which 
no  monument  could  be  erected.  The  soil  of  Spain,  it  was 
held,  should  not  be  profaned  by  the  carcasses  of  heretics,  and 
they  were  therefore  given  to  the  ocean.  It  was  with  a  good 
deal  of  difficulty  that  Mr.  Mark  effected  a  purchase  which 
assured  him  and  his  Protestant  brethren,  that  when  they  died 


TROPICAL     PLANTS.  195 

they  should  not  have  a  more  contemptuous  burial  than  was  al- 
lowed to  asges  and  dogs.  He  now  sleeps  in  the  spot  which 
he  vindicated  for  his  own  last  rest  and  theirs,  and  a  stately 
monument  is  erected  to  the  worthy  man's  memory. 

It  is  said  that  after  this  cemetery  was  opened,  and  the 
bodies  of  Protestants  allowed  a  last  resting-place  in  Spanish 
earth,  the  funerals  could  not  for  some  time  take  place  with- 
out hootings  and  cries  of  derision  from  the  populace,  and  that 
fears  were  sometimes  entertained  lest  the  funeral  services 
should  be  riotously  interrupted.  At  present  there  is  nothing 
of  all  this,  and  the  Protestant  is  as  welcome  to  the  hospital- 
ity of  a  quiet  grave  as  his  Catholic  brother. 

The  burial-place  lies  on  the  side  of  a  mount,  rising  from 
the  sea  to  the  citadel  of  Malaga,  formerly  a  stronghold  of 
the  Moors,  and  surrendered  by  them  to  the  conquering  arms 
of  Isabella  the  Catholic.  The  rains  which  fall  on  this  de- 
clivity, ragged  with  scattered  groups  of  the  prickly  pear, 
flow  naturally  into  a  ravine,  which  passes  by  the  cemetery, 
and  here  they  are  gathered  into  a  reservoir,  from  which,  in 
the  dry  season,  they  are  distributed  to  the  plants  growing 
among  the  graves.  We  entered  the  enclosure  by  a  massive 
portal,  just  erected,  before  which  scowled  two  lions  in  free- 
stone, and  behind  which  stood  a  porter's  lodge,  and  went  up 
to  the  monuments  through  two  rows  of  geraniums,  of  the 
most  luxuriant  growth  and  spotted  with  flowers.  "You 
should  see  them  in  January,"  said  the  friend  who  accompa- 
nied me,  "  when  they  are  in  a  flush  of  bloom."  The  walks 
within  were  bordered  with  beautiful  tropical  plants,  which, 


196  MONUMENTS. 

in  this  genial  atmospliere,  seemed  not  to  miss  their  native 
climate.  The  tree  called  j'?or^5  depascua,  or  paschal  flower, 
held  forth  its  clusters  of  yellow  blossoms,  around  which 
broad  circles  of  its  leaves  had  parted  with  their  natural  green 
color  and  took  that  of  blood ;  the  pepper  tree,  as  it  is  called, 
drooped  its  sheaves  of  delicate,  fresh  green  leaves  over  the 
graves,  shivering  in  the  slightest  breath  of  wind ;  nor  were 
rows  of  cypresses  wanting.  Among  the  monuments  were 
those  of  several  of  my  countrymen ;  two  of  them  from  New 
York,  Lieutenant  Coddington  and  young  Mr.  Gierke,  a  son 
of  Judge  Gierke.  Several  graves  had  the  space  over  them 
formed  into  the  shape  of  a  coffin,  in  a  kind  of  shell-work 
imbedded  in  cement.  At  the  foot  of  the  declivity  occupied 
by  the  burial-place,  the  ocean  glimmered  and  flung  his  bil- 
lows against  the  shore  with  an  angry  noise,  as  if  he  chafed 
at  being  deprived  of  the  dues  paid  him  for  so  many  years — 
the  corpses  of  the  heretics,  which  used  to  be  buried  in  the 
sands  of  his  bed  with  the  bones  of  sharks  and  sea-lions. 

The  original  burial-ground  has  been  greatly  enlarged  by 
the  present  Mr.  Mark,  the  son  and  successor  in  office  of  him 
by  whom  it  was  first  projected.  To  him  are  owing  the  vari- 
ous embellishments  of  which  I  have  spoken,  and  others  which 
I  have  not  mentioned.  At  present,  Americans  are  allowed 
a  place  in  it  by  courtesy  and  sufierance,  and  it  seems  to  me 
that  it  would  be  well  if  our  government  would,  by  a  small 
appropriation,  secure  to  its  citizens,  in  perpetuity,  the  right 
of  sepulture  within  its  limits ;  which,  I  am  told,  might  be 
done. 


ITS     PUBLIC     CEMETERY,  197 

It  was  some  days  after  this,  that  I  went  with  the  Ameri- 
can Consul,  Mr.  J.  Somers  Smith,  from  whom  and  whose 
family  we  received  many  kindnesses  during  our  stay  in 
Malaga,  to  visit  the  city  cemetery.  A  pleasant  winding 
road  conducted  us  to  it  from  the  city  gates,  between  rows  of 
olive  trees,  and  little  orange  and  lemon  groves.  I  was  sur- 
prised at  the  splendor  of  the  monuments,  as  compared  with 
those  of  the  cemeteries  of  Madrid.  The  lords  of  commerce, 
in  Malaga,  sleep  in  far  more  sumptuous  sepulchres  than  the 
Castilian  nobility.  Over  the  space  enclosed  by  the  thick 
walls  of  the  cemetery  are  scattered  tombs  in  the  form  of 
chapels,  urns  or  massive  pedestals,  marble  statues  on  columns 
of  costly  workmanship,  and  elaborate  sculptures  in  relief. 
The  walks,  at  the  time  I  was  there,  were  bordered  with  roses 
and  other  choice  plants,  in  bloom,  carefully  tended. 

As  we  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  grounds,  admiring  the 
prospect  it  showed  us,  the  beautiful  undulations  of  the  sur- 
rounding country — its  airy  eminences  and  sunny  nooks,  and 
the  great  ocean  to  the  south — the  American  Consul  remarked 
that  this  would  be  a  most  desirable  region  for  country  resi- 
dences, if  the  neighborhood  were  but  safe.  "  We  live  within 
the  city  walls,"  he  continued,  "  for  the  sake  of  security.  If 
we  have  country  seats,  they  are  always  in  danger  of  the 
visits  of  robbers." 

This  is,  in  fact,  the  cause  which  prevents  those  who  en- 
rich themselves  by  the  growing  commerce  of  Malaga,  and 
who  build  for  their  families  these  stately  sepulchres  among 
roses  and  geraniums,  from  covering  the  heights  around  the 


198  ROBBEES. 

city  with  beautiful  country  seats.  The  mildness  of  the  win- 
ter climate  allows  the  cultivation  of  almost  any  tropical  plant 
to  which  one  may  take  a  fancy ;  indeed,  the  winter  is  the 
season  of  bloom  and  verdure.  They  might  embower  their 
dwellings  with  the  palm  and  the  orange,  and  twenty  other 
beautiful  trees,  which  require  a  climate  where  the  frost  never 
falls,  and  the  vapors  of  the  air  never  curdle  into  snow. 

"It  was  but  a  little  while  since,"  said  a  resident  of 
Malaga  to  me,  "  that  we  were  really  afraid  to  go  into  the 
country,  except  to  travel  on  the  great  roads  which  are 
watched  by  the  civil  guard.  At  that  time  there  was  a  ban- 
dit who,  with  a  few  accomplices,  haunted  the  region  back  of 
the  city,  and  used  to  waylay  and  carry  off  such  persons  as 
he  thought  likely  to  bring  a  large  ransom.  A  poor  devil 
was,  of  course,  not  worth  the  catching,  but  a  rich  man  or  a 
rich  man's  son  was  a  prize  which  was  sure  to  reward  his 
trouble.  He  would  send  word  to  the  family  of  his  captive, 
that  on  an  appointed  day  he  must  have  a  certain  sum  of 
money,  or  a  forefinger  of  their  friend  would  be  sent  them ;  or 
perhaps  a  harsher  message  came,  that  his  head  would  be  laid 
at  their  door.  At  last  he  was  shot — it  was  three  or  four 
weeks  ago— and  his  body  was  brought  into  town  ;  I  saw  it ; 
it  was  that  of  a  man  of  middle  size,  but  of  great  apparent 
hardihood  and  vigor.  The  wounds  by  which  he  died  were 
given  in  such  a  manner,  that  he  must  have  been  shot  while 
asleep.  He  had  been  a  smuggler  in  his  day ;  had  been  de- 
tected and  imprisoned,  and  on  getting  his  liberty,  betook 


1 


A    BOY     CAPTIVE.  199 

himself  to  the  profession  of  a  robber.  Since  his  death  I  have 
ventured  into  the  country  on  a  party  of  pleasure." 

Some  further  particulars  of  this  man's  warfare  upon  so- 
ciety, I  heard  before  I  left  Malaga.  Not  long  before  he  was 
killed,  he  captured  a  boy  just  without  the  city  gates,  and 
caused  his  father  to  be  informed  that  if  within  a  certain 
time  eleven  thousand  dollars  were  not  deposited  at  a  place 
named  in  the  message,  the  boy's  ears  would  be  sent  him. 
The  money  was  deposited,  and  the  boy  restored  to  his  family. 
He  related  that  he  was  well  cared  for,  and  kindly  treated ; 
that  he  was  taken  blindfold  from  one  place  to  another, 
among  the  solitary  recesses  of  the  mountains,  and  that  only 
when  they  reached  one  of  their  lurking  places,  the  robbers 
removed  the  bandage  from  his  eyes.  The  name  of  the  ban- 
dit whose  story  I  have  related — I  believe  I  have  it  right — 
was  Manuel  Diaz  ;  the  family  name  Diaz  is  very  common  in 
Spain,  and  figures  in  the  history  of  the  wars  with  the  Moors. 
When  I  heard  these  accounts  of  the  Andalusian  bandit,  I 
could  not  help  thinking  of  what  I  had  heard  and  seen  in  the 
East,  nearly  five  years  ago — of  the  dreaded  robber  of  Lebanon, 
who  infested  the  neighborhood  of  Beyrout,  and  was  brought 
into  the  city  a  prisoner,  while  I  was  there ;  and  of  the  fear 
which  the  inhabitants  of  Smyrna  had  of  the  outlaws  in  its 
environs,  who  held  the  city  in  a  state  of  siege  on  the  land 
side,  so  that  no  man  of  substance  could  venture  to  occupy 
his  country  place  in  one  of  the  villages  pleasantly  seated 
on  the  declivities  of  the  mountains. 

At  Malaga  they  make  with  great  cleverness  little  images 


200      STATUETTES  OF  BAKED  EARTH. 

of  baked  earth,  representing  the  different  costumes  seen  in 
the  south  of  Spain.  The  artist  who  at  present  enjoys  the 
greatest  reputation  is  Jose  Cubero,  though  I  believe  he  has 
his  rivals.  In  his  collection  you  see  the  majo  and  the  inaja, 
the  Andalusian  dandy  and  his  mate ;  gipsey  men  and 
women  ;  peasants  of  both  sexes,  on  foot  or  on  donkeys ; 
young  people  dancing  in  holiday  dresses,  hidalgos  on  horse- 
back wrapped  in  their  ample  cloaks  ;  priests  in  their  enor- 
mous hats  ;  bandits  of  the  mountains  ;  soldiers  ;  members 
of  the  civil  guard,  with  their  carbines,  and  I  know  not  how 
many  more.  After  the  figures  have  been  subjected  to  a 
strong  heat,  they  come  out  of  the  oven  with  a  clean,  sharp 
outline  and  of  a  soft  cream  color ;  a  workman  then  takes 
them,  and  with  a  pencil  paints  the  hair,  tints  the  eyes  and 
face,  stains  the  gaiters,  tracing  them  with  embroidery,  and 
gives  every  part  of  the  dress  its  proper  hue.  The  spirit  with 
which  these  little  figures  and  groups  are  designed,  and  the 
skill  and  ingenuity  with  which  they  are  executed,  show  a 
capacity  for  the  plastic  art  which  only  needs  due  encourage- 
ment to  raise  it  to  something  more  noble. 


A    JOURNEY     TO     GRENADA.  201 


LETTEE  XIX. 

GRENADA THE     ALHAMBRA. 

Gran,  Algeria,  Becemher  17,  IBS'?. 

While  at  Malaga  we  went  to  pass  a  few  days  among  the 
remains  of  Moorish  splendor  in  the  city  of  Grenada.  A  dil- 
igence goes  out  from  Malaga  on  its  way  to  that  place  at  nine 
o'clock  every  night,  in  which  we  took  places,  accompanied  by 
two  persons  of  the  family  of  the  American  consul,  to  whom 
we  were  indebted  for  much  of  the  pleasure  and  interest  of  the 
journey.  I  have  already  said  that  the  Spaniards  like  to  be- 
gin their  journeys  in  the  night.  A  diligence  was  not  long 
since  established  which  set  out  for  Grenada  in  the  morning, 
but  this  departure  from  old  usages  met  with  little  favor,  and 
was  soon  given  up. 

I  shall  long  remember  the  journey  of  that  night.  It  was 
a  soft  mild  evening,  and  the  moon  flooded  the  whole  region 
with  brightness.  Our  vehicle  climbed  the  mountains  north  of 
Malaga,  steep  beyond  steep,  while  the  lights  of  the  city  and 
its  harbor  were  seen  for  a  long  time  gleaming  up  from  the 
edge  of  the  ocean  far  below  us.  Half  way  up  we  passed  the 
9* 


202  ASPECT     OF     THE     COUNTRY. 

Queen's  Fountain,  Fuente  de  la  Reyna,  where  Isabella  tlie 
Catholic  is  said,  in  one  of  her  triumphant  passages  through 
the  south  of  Spain,  to  have  stopped  and  quenched  her  thirst. 
It  pours  out  its  waters  into  a  marble  basin,  murmuring  now 
in  the  silence  of  night  as  it  murmured  four  hundred  years 
ago.  Along  the  road  grew  a  row  of  evergreen  oaks,  flinging 
their  dark  shadows  into  the  path ;  below  us  lay  ravines  and 
gulfs,  which  deepened  into  indistinguishable  darkness ;  around 
us  stood  bold  headlands  in  the  white  moonlight ;  a  solitary 
region,  tilled  but  not  inhabited ;  a  vast  tract  covered  with 
vines  ;  vineyard  beyond  vineyard  farther  than  the  sight  can 
reach,  where  a  fierce  sunshine  beating  upon  the  red  soil  exalts 
the  juices  of  the  fruit,  and  whence  the  vaults  of  a  thou- 
sand wine  merchants  have  been  filled  for  century  after  cen- 
tury. 

The  village  of  Colmenar  came  in  sight.  "  Here,"  said 
one  of  our  companions,  "  live  the  smugglers  of  the  coast,  and 
here  the  robbers  I  told  you  of  have  their  confederates,  and 
are  sometimes  harbored."  The  diligence  now  descended  into 
a  valley,  the  moonlight  faded  in  thickening  clouds,  and  a  lit- 
tle before  sunrise  we  stopped  at  the  town  of  Loja  for  our 
morning  cup  of  chocolate.  Loja  is  known  as  the  birthplace 
of  Narvaez,  the  late  prime  minister  of  Spain,  who  has  acquir- 
ed an  infamous  notoriety  as  author  of  the  law  against  the 
liberty  of  the  press.  In  leaving  the  place,  a  turn  in  the  road 
gave  us  an  opportunity  of  observing  its  beautiful  situation,  on 
the  side  of  a  hill  covered  with  olive  groves  and  other  fruit 
trees,  and  sloping  down  to  rich  meadows,  through  which 


THE     RIVER     GENIL.  203 

wound  a  stream,  the  Genii  of  Grenada,  bordered  with  an  am- 
ple fringe  of  unpruned  forest  trees,  nearly  all  in  leaf,  though 
it  was  now  the  fourth  of  December.  We  had  so  long  been 
accustomed  to  seeing  forest  trees  lopped  and  trimmed,  that 
we  gazed  with  delight  on  these  unmutilated  groves,  sending 
forth  their  boughs  in  their  native  freedom,  and  wondered  at 
their  beauty.  Out  of  this  valley  we  passed  into  a  dreary  re- 
gion of  pasturage,  where  shepherds  were  tending  their  flocks 
of  long-wooUed  sheep,  mostly  black,  and  then  we  descended 
upon  the  Vega  of  Grenada,  a  vast  and  rich  plain  studded 
with  villages.  At  Santa  Fe,  where  we  stopped  to  change 
our  horses,  several  miles  south  of  Grenada,  a  mob  of  boys 
came  about  us,  some  of  them  quite  comfortably  clad,  who 
clamored  for  alms,  and  several  of  whom,  keeping  pace 
with  our  vehicle,  ran  beside  it  for  more  than  half  the  way 
to  Grenada. 

At  length  Grenada  lay  before  our  eyes,  on  a  hill-side,  with 
her  ancient  towers  rising  over  her  roofs  and  her  woods,  and 
towering  far  above  all  gleamed  the  snowy  summits  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada,  in  which  her  rivers  have  their  source.  We 
drove  into  the  city  through  a  wretched  suburb,  and  were  in- 
stantly surrounded  by  a  mob  of  young  beggars,  who  trotted 
and  shouted  beside  the  diligence,  while  the  people  gazed  and 
grinned  at  us  from  the  doors  and  windows.  Every  city  in 
Spain  has  its  particular  custom-house,  and  our  baggage  had, 
of  course,  to  undergo  an  inspection,  after  which  we  had  it 
sent  to  the  Fonda  cle  Minerva,  on  the  Darro,  a  tolerable  lio- 
tel,  but  miserably  sunless  and  chilly  at  this  season  of  the 


204  ,  BEAUTY     OF     GRENADA. 

year.  After  having  dined  in  an  uncomfortably  airy  saloon, 
we  went  out  into  the  pleasant  evening  sunshine  and  walked 
upon  the  Alameda,  planted  with  majestic  elms  that  overhang 
a  broad  space  with  their  long  spreading  branches,  and  form 
one  of  the  finest  public  walks  in  all  Spain.  The  extent  and 
beauty  of  its  public  walks  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  char- 
acteristics of  Grenada.  They  surround  the  hill  on  which 
stands  the  Alhambra,  and  intersect  its  thick  woods ;  they  ac- 
company the  Genii  a  considerable  way  on  its  course;  they 
follow  the  stream  of  the  Darro ;  they  border  the  town  at  its 
different  extremites  and  issues. 

I  am  not  about  to  describe  Grenada.  After  what  Irving 
has  written  of  it,  I  should  as  soon  think  of  attempting  a  poem 
on  the  wrath  of  Achilles  in  competition  with  Homer.  Let  me 
say  of  it,  however,  that  its  site  is  as  beautiful  and  striking  as 
its  antiquities.  There  is  but  one  Alhambra-;  there  is  but  one 
Grenada.  Could  it  have  been  the  taste  of  the  Moorish  sov- 
ereigns ;  could  it  have  been  their  sense  of  the  beauty  of  nature, 
which  led  them  to  fix  their  residence  in  a  spot  presenting  such 
glorious  combinations  of  mountain  and  valley,  forest  and 
stream ;  a  spot  where  you  hear  on  all  sides  the  sound  of 
falling  waters  and  the  murmur  of  rivers  ;  where  the  hill-sides 
and  water-courses  clothe  themselves  with  dense  woods ;  where 
majestic  mountains  stand  in  sight,  capped  with  snow ;  while 
at  their  foot,  stretching  away  from  the  town,  lies  one  of  the 
fairest  and  most  fertile  valleys  that  the  sun  ever  shone  upon  ? 
However  this  may  be,  the  place  was  the  fitting  seat  of  a  great 
and  splendid  dominion. 


ARCHITECTURE     OF     THE     ALHAMBRA.  205 

If  in  any  respect  the  Alhambra  did  not  correspond  with 
the  idea  I  had  previously  formed  of  it,  it  was  in  the  minute- 
ness of  its  ornamentation.  I  did  not  expect  that  the  figures 
into  which  the  surface  of  its  walls  is  wrought,  and  which  yet, 
in  most  places,  preserve  the  sharp  outline  of  a  stereotype 
plate,  would  prove  to  be  no  larger  than  some  engravings  in 
wliich  they  are  represented.  Yet  this  very  minuteness,  I 
must  admit,  harmonizes  perfectly  with  the  general  character 
of  the  architecture,  which  is  that  of  the  utmost  lightness  and 
delicacy  possible  in  buildings  of  stone.  The  architecture  of 
the  Alhambra  is  that  of  the  harem ;  it  is  the  architecture  of 
a  race  who  delighted  in  voluptuous  ease,  w^ho  wrapped  them- 
selves in  soft  apparel,  and  lolled  upon  divans.  The  Alham- 
bra was  the  summer  palace  of  the  Moorish  monarchs — a  place 
of  luxurious  retreat  from  the  relaxing  heats  of  the  season — 
a  place  of  shade  and  running  waters,  courting  the  entrance 
of  the  winds  under  its  arches  and  between  its  slender  pillars, 
yet  spreading  a  screen  against  the  sunshine.  To  this  end 
the  stones  of  the  quarry  w^ere  shaped  into  a  bower,  with  col- 
umns as  light  as  the  stems  of  the  orange  trees  planted  in 
its  courts,  and  walls  incrusted  with  scroll-work  and  foliage 
as  delicate  as  the  leaves  of  the  myrtle  growing  by  its  foun- 
tains. Yet,  the  most  remarkable  parts  of  the  Alhambra  are 
those  lofty  rooms  w  ith  circular  vaults  from  which  hang  innu- 
merable little  points  like  icicles,  with  rounded  recesses  be- 
tween them.  These  are  as  strangely  beautiful  as  a  dream, 
and  translate  into  a  visible  reality  the  poetic  idea  of  a  sparry 
cavern  formed  by  genii  in  the  chambers  of  the  rock. 


206  RESTORATION     OF     THE     ALHAMBRA. 

I  was  glad  to  see  workmen  employed  in  restoring  the  de- 
faced parts  of  this  palace.  The  work  goes  on  sluggishly,  it 
is  true,  but  it  is  a  comfort  to  perceive  that  the  ingenuity  of 
man  renews  faster  than  time  destroys.  I  was  still  more  pleas- 
ed to  learn  that  the  clumsy  additions  with  which  the  Span- 
ish monarchs  disfigured  the  beautiful  work  of  the  Moors  are 
to  be  taken  down.  On  the  original  flat  roofs  they  built  anoth- 
er story,  on  the  sides  of  which  they  ostentatiously  displayed 
the  arms  of  Castile,  by  way  of  publishing  their  own  bad  taste, 
and  this  superstructure  they  covered  with  a  pointed  roof  of 
heavy  tiles. 

"  All  that,"  said  the  keeper  of  the  place,  when  I  expressed 
my  disgust  at  its  deformity,  "is  to  come  down ;  every  thing 
that  you  see  above  the  Moorish  cornice ;  and  the  building  is 
to  be  left  as  it  was  at  first." 

Besides  miserably  spoiling  the  general  effect,  these  roofs 
load  the  columns  below  with  too  great  a  weight.  An  earth- 
quake which  happened  two  or  three  years  since  made  them 
reel  under  their  burden ;  it  moved  several  of  them  from  their 
upright  position,  and  rendered  it  necessary  to  prop  others 
with  a  framework  of  wooden  posts  and  braces.  When  the 
barbarian  additions  made  by  the  Spaniards  shall  be  removed, 
it  w  ill  be  easy,  I  suppose,  to  restore  the  columns  to  their  up- 
right state,  and  the  wooden  supports  will  become  unnecessa- 
ry. At  some  future  time  we  may  hope  that  the  visitor  will 
see  this  palace,  if  not  in  its  original  splendor,  yet  cleared  at 
least  of  what  now  prevents  him  from  perceiving  much  of  its 
original  beauty  and  grace. 


GARDEN     OF     THE     KINGS.  207 

I  was  told  that  visitors  are  no  longer  allowed  admission 
to  the  garden  under  the  walls  of  the  citadel,  called  the  Gar- 
den of  the  Moorish  Kings  ;  but  a  letter  to  the  Governor  of 
the  Alhambra,  with  which  I  had  been  furnished  at  Madrid, 
opened  it  to  our  party.  Here  an  enormous  vine,  said  to  be 
of  the  time  of  the  Moors,  twists  its  half-decayed  trunk  around 
a  stone  pillar.  It  looks  old  enough,  certainly,  to  have  yielded 
its  clusters  to  Arab  hands,  and  perhaps  will  yet  yield  them 
to  their  descendants,  when,  in  the  next  century,  the  Arab 
race,  imbued  with  the  civilization  of  Western  Europe,  and 
becoming  fond  of  travel  and  curious  in  matters  of  antiquity, 
shall  visit  hospitable  Spain  to  contemplate  the  vestiges  of 
power  and  splendor  left  in  that  land  by  their  fathers.  Two 
lofty  cypresses,  planted  by  the  Moors  on  this  part  of  the  hill 
of  the  Alhambra,  yet  stand  in  their  full  vigor  and  freshness 
— a  sight  scarcely  less  interesting  than  the  Alhambra  itself. 
These  trees  have  survived  wars  and  sieges,  droughts  and 
earthquakes,  and  flourish  in  perpetual  greenness,  while  gen- 
erations, and  dynasties,  and  empires  have  passed  away,  and 
while  even  the  massive  fortresses  built  by  those  who  planted 
them  are  beginning  to  crumble.  Thus  they  may  outlast  not 
only  empires,  but  the  monuments  of  empires. 

A  general  letter  of  introduction  from  Archbishop  Hughes, 
of  New  York,  obtained  for  us  access  to  the  relics  of  Ferdi- 
nand and  Isabella,  in  the  Koyal  Chapel  of  the  Cathedral, 
and  to  the  vaults  below,  in  which  their  remains  are  laid. 
The  mausoleum  of  these  sovereigns  before  the  altar  is  one  of 
the  most  superb  things  of  its  kind  in  the  world ;  their  colos- 


208         TOMB     OF    FERDINAND    AND     ISABELLA. 

sal  effigies  lie  crowned  and  sceptred  in  their  robes  of  state, 
and  on  the  sides  of  their  marble  couch  is  sculptured  the 
story  of  their  conquests.  I  was  amused  by  an  odd  fancy 
of  one  of  our  companions :  "Do  you  perceive,"  said  he, 
"  that  the  head  of  Ferdinand  makes  scarcely  any  impres- 
sion on  his  pillow,  while  the  head  of  Isabella  sinks  deep 
into  hers  ?  The  artist  no  doubt  intended  to  signify  that 
the  Queen's  head  was  much  better  furnished  than  that  of 
her  consort." 

An  ecclesiastic  sent  to  accompany  us,  by  the  Archbishop 
of  Grenada,  called  to  an  attendant,  who  brought  a  light,  and 
removing  a  carpet  on  the  floor  between  the  mausoleum  and 
the  altar,  pulled  up  a  trap-door,  below  which,  leading  down 
to  a  vault,  was  a  flight  of  steps.  We  descended,  and  here 
we  were  introduced  to  the  coffins  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella, 
immediately  under  the  monument  which  we  had  just  been 
admiring.  They  are  large,  shapeless  leaden  boxes,  in  which 
the  bodies  of  the  royal  pair  were  enclosed  at  their  death, 
and  deposited  near  to  the  spot  where  the  priests  chant  their 
litanies  and  ofi'er  the  sacrifice.  The  contrast  between  the 
outside  of  this  sepulchr^e  and  what  w^e  now  saw,  was  striking ; 
above,  in  the  beautiful  chapel,  every  thing  was  pompous  and 
splendid,  but  here  lay  the  dead  within  a  bare  dungeon  of 
hewn  stone,  in  dust,  darkness  and  silence.  When  we  again 
ascended  to  the  chapel,  the  ecclesiastic  caused  the  crown  and 
sceptre  of  Isabella,  and  the  sword  of  Ferdinand,  to  be  brought 
forth  and  shown  us,  along  with  one  or  two  other  relics, 
among  which  was  a  dalniatico,  or  ecclesiastical  mantle,  heavily 


GRENADA     IN     SPRING.  209 

embroidered  with  thread  of  gold  by  the  pious  hands  of  Isa- 
bella, to  be  worn  by  the  priests  in  the  ceremonies  of  the 
chm'ch.  The  crow^n,  I  must  say,  appeared  to  me  to  be  rather 
a  rude  bauble  of  its  kind,  but  it  had  been  worn  by  a  great 
sovereign. 

We  could  not  help  regretting,  every  moment  of  our  stay 
at  Grenada,  that  we  had  not  visited  it  earlier  in  the  season  ; 
for  now  the  air,  after  the  first  day,  w^as  keen  and  sharp,  and 
the  braziers  brought  into  our  room  w^ere  quite  insufficient  to 
remove  the  perpetual  comfortless  feeling  of  chilliness.  Still 
more  fortunate  should  we  have  been  if  we  could  have  visited 
Grenada  in  the  spring.  That  is  the  time  to  see  Grenada, 
and  not  to  see  it  merely,  but  to  enjoy  it  with  the  other  senses 
— to  inhale  the  fragrance  of  its  blossomed  orange  trees,  and 
of  other  flowers  just  opened  ;  to  hear  the  music  of  the  night- 
ingales, with  which  its  woods  are  populous  ;  to  listen  at  open 
windows  to  the  murmur  of  its  mountains  and  streams,  and 
to  feel  the  soft  winds  that  blow  over  its  luxuriant  Vega,  and 
all  this  in  the  midst  of  scenes  associated  with  a  thousand  ro- 
mantic memories. 

As  a  town,  Grenada  forms  a  perfect  contrast  with  the 
beauty  that  surrounds  it ;  it  is  ugly ;  the  houses  for  the  most 
part  mean,  and  the  streets  narrow,  winding,  and  gloomy,  in 
some  places  without  a  pavement,  and  generally,  owing  to 
certain  habits  of  the  people,  nasty.  There  is  a  group  of  beg- 
gars for  every  sunny  corner,  at  this  season,  and  I  suppose 
for  every  shady  one  in  summer.  The  people  of  the  place  are 
said  to  have  the  general  character  of  the  Andalusians  ;  that 


210  THE     GIPSEYS. 

is  to  say,  to  be  fond  of  pleasure,  mirth,  and  holidays,  and 
averse  to  labor ;  improvident,  lively,  eloquent,  given  to  ex- 
aggeration, and  acutely  sensible  to  external  impressions. 
Every  afternoon  during  our  stay,  a  swarm  of  well-dressed 
people  gathered  upon  the  public  w^alk  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Darro,  before  our  windows,  where  we  saw  them  slowly 
pacing  the  ground,  and  then  turning  to  pace  it  over  again. 
A  few  seated  themselves  occasionally  on  the  stone  benches, 
in  spite  of  the  keen  air,  which  they  bore  bravely.  I  had  a 
letter  to  a  gentleman,  a  native  of  Grenada,  an  intelligent 
man,  who,  under  one  of  the  previous  administrations,  had 
held  a  judicial  post  in  Valencia.  At  his  first  visit,  I  spoke 
of  calling  to  pay  my  respects  to  him  at  his  house.  "  Why 
give  yourself  that  trouble?"  he  asked  ;  "I  will  come  to  see 
you  every  evening."  And  come  he  did,  with  the  most  exact 
punctuality,  and  informed  me  of  many  things  which  I  de- 
sired to  know,  and  manifested  much  more  curiosity  in  regard 
to  the  institutions  and  condition  of  our  country  than  is  usual 
among  Spaniards. 

In  looking  across  from  the  Alhambra  to  the  Albaicin, 
which  is  the  old  Moorish  part  of  the  town,  we  saw  the  hill- 
side above  the  houses  hollowed  into  caverns.  "  There  live 
the  gipseys,"  said  our  guide ;  "  they  burrow  in  the  earth  like 
rabbits,  and  live  swinishly  enough  together ;  but  in  some  re- 
spects they  set  a  good  example ;  the  women  are  faithful  to 
their  marriage  vow,  and  the  gipsey  race  is  kept  unmingled." 
A  practised  eye  easily  discerns  the  gipsey,  not  merely  by  the 
darker  complexion  and  by  the  silken  hair  of  the  women,  but 


BEAUTIFUL     WOMEN.  211 

by  the  peculiar  cast  of  countenauce,  which  is  more  than  I 
have  been  able  to  do.  "  There,"  said  our  guide  one  day, 
pointing  to  a  man  who  stood  by  himself  in  the  street,  "  there 
is  the  captain  of  the  gipseys."  For  my  part,  I  could  not 
have  distinguished  him  from  the  common  race  of  Andalu- 
sians.  He  was  a  small,  thin  man,  of  sallow  complexion, 
wearing  the  iiiajo  dress — a  colored  handkerchief  tied  round 
his  head,  and  over  that  a  black  cap ;  a  short,  black  jacket, 
an  embroidered  waistcoat,  a  bright  crimson  sash  wrapped 
tightly  round  his  waist,  black  knee-breeches,  and  embroider- 
ed leathern  gaiters. 

The  women  of  Grenada  appeared  to  me  uncommonly 
handsome,  and  this  beauty  I  often  saw  in  persons  of  the 
humblest  condition,  employed  in  the  rudest  labors.  The 
mixture  of  races  has  had  a  favorable  effect  in  raising  the 
standard  of  female  beauty — casting  the  features  in  a  more 
symmetrical  mould,  and  giving  them  a  more  prepossessing 
expression.  I  had  frequent  occasion  to  make  this  remark 
since  I  left  the  province  of  New  Castile.  The  physiognomy 
changes,  as  you  pass  to  the  softer  climate  of  the  country  lying 
on  the  sea-coast,  where  the  blending  of  the  different  branches 
of  the  Caucasian  stock  has  been  most  miscellaneous  and  most 
complete. 

On  the  eighth  of  December,  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  even- 
ing, we  took  passage  in  the  diligence  from  Grenada  to 
Malaga,  and  passing  through  the  extensive  olive  groves  of 
Loja,  in  the  early  dawn  of  the  next  morning,  we  came,  about 
sunrise,  to  where  the  road  winds  with  a  steep  ascent  up 


212      A    CASTILIAN'S     OPINION     OF    GRENADA. 

among  bare,  bleak  mountains.  I  got  out  to  walk,  and  was 
joined  by  a  passenger  from  another  compartment  of  the  dili- 
gence. He  was  a  Castilian,  who  had  lived  thirty  years  in 
Grenada,  engaged  in  trade,  and,  as  I  inferred,  successfully. 
"  Grenada,"  he  said,  "  is  declining,  but  it  is  the  fault  of  the 
inhabitants.  These  Andalusians  like  only  to  be  amused, 
and  there  is  no  contempt  like  the  contempt  they  have  for 
money.  All  that  they  earn  they  must  get  rid  of ;  a  work- 
man who  has  a  dollar  in  his  pocket  will  do  nothing  till  it  is 
fooled  away.  It  is  therefore  that  the  Grenadans  are  poor, 
and  their  city  in  decay." 

"  But  what  will  you  say  of  Malaga  ?  "  I  asked.  "  Malaga, 
you  must  admit,  is  thriving." 

"  It  is  the  Castilians,"  he  replied,  "  who  have  made  it 
the  prosperous  city  it  is.  It  was  a  poor  place  enough  till 
the  Castilian  merchants  saw  the  advantages  of  its  situation 
and  settled  there."  And  then  he  went  on  to  enumerate  the 
eminent  Castilian  merchants  who  had  built  up,  as  he  said, 
the  prosperity  of  Malaga,  until  the  diligence,  overtaking  us 
on  a  piece  of  level  road,  put  an  end  to  his  eulogy  of  Castilian 
enterprise,  by  an  intimation  that  it  was  time  to  take  his  seat 
within. 

At  Colmenar,  where  we  stopped  to  breakfast,  the  beggars 
came  about  us  in  such  numbers  that  we  could  with  diflSculty 
get  in  and  out  of  the  carriage,  and  were  obliged  to  poke 
them  out  of  our  way.  Here  a  passenger  joined  us,  who 
spoke  of  the  distemper  which  of  late  years  destroys  the 
grape.     This  year,  he  said,  the  fruit  had  suffered  more  from 


ARRIVAL     AT     MALAGA.  213 

the  mildew  than  in  any  previous  season  ;  and  if  no  remedy 
was  found,  the  culture  of  the  vine  must  be  abandoned.  I 
looked  round  on  the  almost  boundless  mountain  side,  planted 
with  low  vines  almost  trailing  on  the  earth,  and  thought 
what  a  change  would  occur  in  the  pursuits  of  the  people 
when  these  should  be  uprooted.  "  That  vineyard,"  pursued 
he,  pointing  to  a  field  by  the  wayside,  "  is  mine ;  in  good 
years  it  has  yielded  twelve  hundred  arrobas  of  wine ;  last 
year  I  had  but  ii  hundred.  It  is  true,  I  am  in  part  compen- 
sated by  the  higher  price  ;  for  the  same  quantity  of  must, 
that  formerly  brought  me  three  reals,  now  brings  me  twenty- 
four.  You  see,  however,  that  on  -the  whole,  I  lose  seri- 
ously." 

We  were  now  descending  the  mountains  towards  Malaga, 
and  began  to  be  sensible  of  its  more  genial  climate.  A 
bright  sunshine  lay  on  the  red  hills,  and  though  the  wind 
blew  with  great  strength,  there  was  in  it  no  harshness  or 
chilliness.  We  reached  Malaga,  submitted  to  an  examina- 
tion of  the  shirts,  night-gowns  and  slippers  we  carried  with 
us,  and  were  allowed  to  take  them  to  an  hotel. 

Our  visit  to  Malaga  was  ended.  Cadiz  and  Seville,  and 
the  rock  of  Gibraltar,  we  had  not  seen,  as  we  had  hoped  to 
do,  including  a  possible  excursion  to  Cordova  ;  but  travelling 
in  Spain,  even  by  passing  in  steamers  from  port  to  port  on 
the  coast,  is  slow,  and  we  found  that  if  we  proceeded  fur- 
ther, it  would  take  more  time  than  we  could  spare  from  our 
intended  visit  to  Italy.  A  steamer  from  Kouen,  bound  to 
Marseilles  by  way  of  Gran  and  Algiers,  made  its  appearance 


214      STEAMERS     PROCEEDING    FROM     MALAGA. 

at  Malaga.  After  some  comparison  of  the  advantages  of 
coming  this  way  instead  of  proceeding  to  Marseilles  by  any 
of  the  lines  which  touch  at  Alicante,  Valencia,  and  Barcelo- 
na, w^e  decided  in  favor  of  the  African  route,  and  took  pas- 
sage in  the  steamer  Normandie,  which  brought  us  hither; 


CLIMATE     OF     MALAGA.  215 


LETTER  XX. 

A  VOYAGE  TO  THE  AFRICAN  COAST ORAN. 

Algiers,  December  20,  1857. 
It  was  a  beautiful  evening  when  we  went  on  board  of  the 
steamer  Normandie,  anchored  in  the  port  of  Malaga;  the 
sea  as  smooth  as  a  mirror,  and  the  sky  in  the  west  flushed 
with  an  amber  light,  which  gave  its  own  tinge  to  every  ob- 
ject lying  below  it.  It  was  not  without  regret  that  we  found 
ourselves  about  to  leave  the  agreeable  climate  of  Malaga,  with- 
out the  hope  of  finding  any  thing  like  it  in  the  countries  to 
which  we  were  going.  "  This  is  our  winter  weather,"  the 
residents  of  the  place  would  say  to  us,  when  we  spoke  of  the 
serenity  and  genial  softness  of  the  season.  In  fact,  winter  in 
Malaga  has  nothing  of  that  dreary  dampness  or  of  those  keen 
winds  which  make  so  many  days  unpleasant  in  other  parts 
of  the  south  of  Europe.  From  the  bleak  north  wind  it  is 
shielded  by  mountains  ;  and  it  welcomes  rather  than  dreads 
the  sirocco  or  south  wind.  In  Africa  the  hot  and  dry  breath 
of  the  sirocco  parches  the  soil  and  withers  its  vegetation  ;  in 
passing  over  to  Italy  it  loads  itself  with  all  the  vapors  of  the 
Mediterranean ;  it  drenches  Naples  with  rain  and  involves 


216  DEPARTURE     FOR     AFRICA. 

Leghorn  in  clouds ;  but  on  Malaga  it  blows  genially,  bringing 
in  gentle  showers.  There  is  just  enough  of  sea  between  the 
Spanish  coast  and  Africa  to  take  off  its  fatal  dryness,  and  to 
make  it  a  temperate  sea  wind,  instead  of  the  burning  wind 
of  the  desert.  "  In  fact,  we  have  hardly  cold  enough  in  win- 
ter," said  a  gentleman  who  had  lived  at  Malaga  for  several 
years,  "  to  brace  us  for  the  heats  of  summer ;  and  one  of  the 
maladies  of  the  country,  occasioned  by  this  softness  of  the  cli- 
mate, is  an  enlargement  of  the  blood-vessels  of  the  skin — the 
appearance  of  varicose  veins  on  the  limbs,  which  often  make 
it  necessary  to  wear  an  elastic  bandage  or  stocking."  I  have 
no  doubt,  for  my  part,  that  the  winter  climate  in  Malaga  is 
one  of  the  most  equable  in  every  respect,  and  most  friendly  to 
the  health  of  invalids,  in  the  world. 

It  was  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  we  went  on 
board  of  the  steamer  Normandie,  which  had  the  reputation 
of  being  an  excellent  sea-boat,  commanded  by  an  obliging 
and  experienced  captain ;  but  it  was  not  till  a  little  past  nine 
that  we  raised  anchor  and  ploughed  our  way  out  of  the  port. 
At  eleven  o'clock  the  sky  was  bright  with  stars,  and  the 
ocean  sleeping  in  a  perfect  calm,  and  I  had  betaken  myself 
to  my  berth  for  the  night,  when  a  shock  was  felt  which  jar- 
red the  vessel  from  stem  to  stern,  followed  by  a  hurried  tramp- 
ling of  feet  on  the  deck  above  me,  a  stormy  rattling  of  ropes, 
and  loud  shouts.  Of  course  everybody  was  immediately  on 
deck,  and  it  was  found  that  by  some  gross  stupidity,  on  one 
side  or  the  other,  we  had  struck  a  steamer  coming  into  port, 
amidships,  opening  a  breach  in  her  side  which  let  in  the  sea, 


A     COLLISION     AT     SEA.  217 

and  caused  her  to  settle  fearfully  in  the  water.  The  first  in- 
quiry was,  whether  we  were  going  down  ;  the  next,  what  had 
become  of  the  steamer  we  had  struck.  The  Norman  die  had 
sustained  no  serious  injury,  and  boats  were  instantly  lowered 
to  go  to  the  help  of  the  other  steamer ;  but  after  the  search 
of  an  hour  or  two  they  returned,  not  having  been  able  to  find 
her.  A  violent  east  wind  arose  soon  after  midnight,  which 
tumbled  us  about  most  uncomfortably;  and  the  Normandie 
was  kept  passing  backwards  and  forwards  near  the  spot  where 
the  collision  took  place,  until  day  broke,  w^hen  we  stood  for 
the  port.  As  we  entered,  there  lay  the  vessel  we  had  struck, 
aground,  with  her  prow  in  the  air  and  her  stern  in  the  water. 
Immediately  after  the  accident,  her  commander  caused  the 
pumps  to  be  worked  by  the  engine,  in  order  to  keep  her  afloat, 
and  made  all  speed  for  the  port,  where  he  ran  her  ashore. 
Lighters  were  now  at  work  taking  out  her  cargo.  She  proved 
to  be  a  Dutch  steamer,  bound  from  Marseilles  to  Kotter- 
dam. 

This  accident  obliged  us  to  remain  two  days  longer  at 
Malaga,  which  we  only  regretted  as  it  was  so  much  to  be  de- 
ducted from  our  contemplated  visit  to  Italy  ;  but  these  days 
were  to  be  passed  in  a  finer  climate  than  Italy  can  boast. 
On  the  evening  of  the  15th  of  December  we  were  again  sum- 
moned on  board,  but  we  did  not  go  out  of  the  harbor  till  the 
next  morning.  While  we  were  waiting  our  departure,  I  hap- 
pened to  stand  near  a  slatternly  woman,  who  had  established 
herself  with  a  brood  of  children  on  a  part  of  the  deck  among 
carpets  and  shawls  somewhat  after  the  Oriental  fashion.  She 
10 


218      THE    SPANISH    LANGUAGE    IN    THE    EAST. 

asked  me  in  Spanish  if  I  was  going  to  Oran.  '^  I  am."  Are 
you  a  Christian  ?  "  The  question  surprised  me  a  little,  but  I 
answered,  *' Certainly;  what  are  you?"  "lam  an  Israel- 
ite." " Born  in  Oran ? "  I  inquired.  "No,  I  was  born  in 
Tangier."  "  And  do  the  Jews  in  Tangier  and  Oran  speak 
Spanish  *? "     "  Certainly ;  they  all  speak  Spanish." 

What  she  said  of  Tangier  and  Oran  is  true  of  the  Jews 
of  all  the  coast  of  Northern  Africa.  When  the  Hebrew  race 
were  so  cruelly  expelled  from  Spain,  they  carried  with  them, 
wherever  they  went  in  considerable  numbers,  the  language 
of  that  country,  as  spoken  and  written  in  their  day,  and  they 
preserve  it  yet  as  their  household  speech.  The  Jews  of  Mo- 
rocco read  the  Hebrew  scriptures  in  old  Spanish ;  and  I  re- 
member to  have  seen  a  copy  of  a  folio  edition  of  this  transla- 
tion, printed  in  Amsterdam  for  their  use.  The  Jews  in  Cairo 
speak  Spanish  ;  in  the  Jews'  quarter  at  Smyrna  you  will  hear 
the  children  prattling  Spanish ;  the  Jews  in  Constantinople 
speak  the  same  language,  and  an  intelligent  Greek  once  told 
me  that  Spanish  is  the  language  of  the  Jews  of  Thessalonica, 
in  Macedonia — so  widely  did  the  exile  and  dispersion  of  the 
Spanish  Jews  diffuse  the  language  of  Castile. 

As  we  stood  out  from  Malaga  to  the  southeast,  the  moun- 
tainous coast  of  Spain,  which  we  were  leaving,  seemed  to  rise 
higher  the  farther  we  receded  from  it.  The  bare,  steep  ridges, 
cloven  with  hollows  deepening  from  the  summit  downward, 
seemed  to  bathe  their  feet  in  the  sea,  and  lost  not  their  dark 
red  hue  in  the  distance.  At  their  base  along  the  shore  was 
seen  here  and  there  a  town  or  village,  but  the  buildings  on 


PIEATES     ON     THE     BARBARY     COAST.  219 

their  sides  were  few,  and,  I  was  told,  were  only  those  con- 
taining the  wine  presses,  to  which  the  grapes  are  brought 
in  the  time  of  the  vintage.  We  could  now  understand 
how,  in  that  extensive  region  of  ravines  and  precipices,  far 
from  the  habitations  of  men,  robbers  could  lurk  and  elude 
pursuit. 

Next  morning  we  found  ourselves  gliding  along  on  a 
smooth  sea,  opposite  to  the  African  coast ;  a  coast  of  dark 
mountain  ranges,  projecting  in  capes ;  the  shores  of  Algeria 
stretching  along  our  right,  and  behind  us.  To  the  west,  rose 
dimly  the  heights  of  Fez.  We  were  now  in  waters  still 
haunted  by  pirates.  It  is  generally  imagined,  I  believe,  that, 
since  the  conquest  of  Algiers,  the  inhabitants  of  the  Barbary 
coast  have  ceased  to  plunder  the  commerce  which  passes 
through  the  Straits  of  Gibraltar ;  but  this  is  a  mistake.  All 
along  that  part  of  the  Mediterranean,  where  the  coast  recedes 
between  Ceuta  on  the  west  and  the  Habibas  Islands  to  the 
east,  they  levy  their  old  tribute  on  the  vessels  of  Christendom, 
though  in  a  somewhat  different  manner.  They  have  their 
lurking-places  among  the  tall  reeds  of  the  shore  ;  and  when 
they  descry  a  vessel  becalmed,  they  put  forth  in  their  boats, 
armed  to  the  teeth,  and  climbing  on  board,  take  what  they 
find  worth  carrying  away.  They  are  a  little  careful  of  shed- 
ding blood,  except  in  cases  of  resistance ;  and  carry  off  no 
prisoners,  contenting  themselves  with  simple  pillage.  Some 
attempts,  I  was  told  at  Malaga,  have  been  made  to  pursue 
and  punish  them,  but  without  success.  Their  boats  were  not 
to  be  found ;  it  is  supposed  they  had  contrived  to  hide  them 


220  MERZ-EL-KEBIE. 

in  tlie  sand,  and  the  sea-robbers  wbo  navigated  them  were 
safe  in  their  mountains  and  deserts. 

I  asked  the  commander  of  the  Normandie  if  these  robber- 
ies were  frequent. 

"  Most  certainly,"  he  replied.  "  In  calm  weather  these 
waters  are  unsafe  for  merchant  vessels.  It  was  only  about 
eight  months  ago  that  a  Bavarian  prince,  who  was  in  his 
yacht,  amusing  himself  in  this  part  of  the  Mediterranean, 
was  robbed  by  them.  You  must  have  seen  the  account  in 
the  newspapers.  He  did  not  yield  with  a  good  grace,  and 
there  was  a  little  encounter,  in  which  he  was  wounded  by  a 
ball  in  the  arm." 

We  approached  the  Habibas  Islands — dark  rocks,  rising 
out  of  the  water,  between  us  and  the  shore — we  passed  them, 
and  steered  south  for  the  bay  of  Oran.  As  we  drew  near  the 
coast,  we  were  struck  with  the  contrast  it  presented  to  the 
bare,  herbless  region  we  left  the  day  before.  Its  rocky  steeps 
were  tinged  and  brightened  with  patches  and  stripes  of  ver- 
dure. About  twelve  o'clock  we  reached  a  landing  in  the  bay 
at  the  distance  of  some  five  miles  from  the  town  of  Oran, 
called  by  the  Spaniards  Marsalquivir — ^but  the  French  write 
it,  probably  with  more  attention  to  its  Arabic  etymology, 
Merz  el-Kebir.  Here,  on  a  precipice  that  rises  over  the  land- 
ing, stands  a  fortress ;  and  at  its  foot,  a  French  settlement 
extends  for  some  distance  along  the  road  to  Oran.  A  min- 
gled crowd  of  Franks  and  Orientals  stood  on  the  wharves, 
and  among  the  latter  I  observed  two  or  three  whose  flowing 


LANDING     ON    THE     AFRICAN     COAST.  221 

garments  of  white  and  blue  illustrated,  very  strikingly,  the 
superior  grace  and  dignity  of  the  Oriental  costume. 

The  moment  we  dropped  anchor,  our  steamer  was  sur- 
rounded with  boats  manned  by  Arabs  and  Spaniards,  who 
came  to  take  us  to  land.  A  dozen  Arabs  sprang  instantly 
on  board,  barelegged  and  barefooted,  with  smooth-shaven 
heads  and  little  close  red  caps,  leaping  like  so  many  African 
monkeys  over  the  boxes  and  barrels  on  deck,  accosting  the 
passengers  one  after  another  in  a  sort  of  Arab-French,  and 
seizing  on  the  baggage  of  those  who  were  about  to  go  on 
shore.  We  made  choice  of  a  Spanish  boatman,  as  one  with 
whom  it  was  most  easy  to  communicate — a  man  of  enormous 
breadth  of  back  and  shoulders,  who  took  us  in  his  boat  to 
the  shore.  With  him  was  one  of  his  countrymen,  a  lively 
chattering  fellow,  who  was  a  candidate  for  the  job  of  taking 
us  in  his  carriage  to  the  town.  I  inquired  of  him  how  long 
he  had  been  in  Oran.  "  Eight  years,"  he  answered ;  "  I 
emigrated  in  the  time  of  the  great  drought."  I  had  heard 
of  this  drought  in  Alicante ;  in  a  considerable  part  of  that 
province  and  the  adjacent  region,  there  was  no  rain,  they 
told  me,  for  nine  years.  "The  country,"  they  said,  "be- 
came almost  a  desert ;  the  vegetation  was  utterly  dried  up ; 
the  inhabitants  abandoned  it ;  thousands  of  them  went  to 
Oran,  on  the  African  coast ;  and  if  you  were  now  to  go  to 
Oran  you  might  fancy  yourself  in  a  province  of  Spain." 
Here  then,  we  were  at  Oran,  and  found  this  description  true 
— the  common  people  speaking  a  less  provincial  and  more 
intelligible  Spanish  than  those  in  the  country  we  had  just 


222  ASPECT     OF     THE     COUNTRY. 

left.  I  inquired  what  was  the  number  of  Spanish  emigrants 
in  the  department  of  Oran.  "  There  are  twenty-eight  thou- 
sand of  them,"  I  was  answered,  "mostly  settled  on  the 
coast ;  the  number  of  French  is  at  most  fourteen  thousand." 
We  had  with  us,  on  landing,  a  few  things  which  we 
brought  on  shore  with  the  design  of  passing  a  night  or  two 
at  Oran ;  these  were  carried  into  the  Custom-house,  where 
they  were  rigorously  searched  by  a  stupid  feUow  in  uniform, 
who  would  scarcely  be  satisfied  without  unfolding  every 
pocket-handkerchief,  and  turning  every  stocking  inside-out. 
At  length,  it  fully  appearing  that  we  were  no  smugglers,  we 
were  allowed  to  proceed.  The  road  leading  to  Oran  from 
the  landing  is  a  broad,  hard,  winding,  parapeted  highway, 
cut  in  the  living  rock  which  skirts  the  sea.  One  of  the  first 
cares  of  the  French  government  has  been  to  make  macad- 
amized roads  along  the  coast,  and  from  village  to  village,  in 
a  region  where  there  had  been  no  roads  since  the  time  of 
the  Komans.  We  passed  through  the  French  neighborhood, 
where  women  were  screeching  at  their  children  in  the  shrill- 
est French,  and  military  veterans  in  white  mustaches  were 
sitting  before  the  doors.  Half  a  mile  beyond,  we  left,  on  our 
right,  in  a  little  recess  of  the  mountains,  the  populous  village 
of  St.  Andre,  entirely  peopled  by  Spanish  emigrants.  "  That 
village,"  said  our  loquacious  driver,  "  is  only  six  years  old." 
I  was  struck  with  the  verdurous  appearance  of  the  shore 
along  which  we  were  passing.  The  crags  that  overhung  the 
road  sprouted  with  many  different  shrubs  and  herbs  of  the 
freshest  green  ;  here  were  beds  of  blue  violets,  patches  of 


ARRIVAL     AT     ORAN.  228 

young  grass,  white  tufts  of  the  sweet  alyssum  in  the  clefts  of 
the  rocks,  and  the  face  of  the  perpendicular  precipices  was 
often  draped  with  pendant  strings  of  a  prostrate  plant,  hav- 
ing thick  fleshy  leaves,  like  the  air-plant ;  a  sight  refreshing 
to  eyes  wearied  with  the  glimmer  of  the  sea. 

We  turned  a  projecting  rock,  and  found  ourselves  at 
Oran,  a  city  of  forty  thousand  inhabitants,  partly  lying  on 
the  strand  and  rising  up  from  the  water  through  a  ravine  to 
the  sides  of  the  hills  where  stand  its  forts,  old  and  new. 
Two  lofty  minarets  overlook  its  dwellings,  with  the  humbler 
towers  of  its  two  or  three  churches,  and  two  broad,  white, 
macadamized  roads  lead  from  the  lower  to  the  upper  town. 
I  shall  long  remember  the  sights  that  met  our  eyes  on  enter- 
ing Oran ;  Arabs  in  their  loose  attire  of  dirty  white,  sitting 
in  the  sun,  or  walking  by  loaded  donkeys  ;  Zouaves  stroll- 
ing about  in  their  Oriental  garb  of  red  and  white  turbans ; 
soldiers  in  the  ordinary  French  uniform,  marching  in  compa- 
nies ;  Jews  in  black  caps  or  turbans,  and  black  tunics,  talk- 
ing with  Franks,  and  probably  driving  bargains ;  Spaniards 
in  their  ample  cloaks,  with  one  corner  drawn  over  the  mouth, 
to  keep  out  their  great  dread,  the  pulmonia  ;  masons  and  car- 
penters at  work  on  buildings  by  the  way-side ;  Franciscan 
monks  in  brown  gowns  ;  Dominican  monks  in  white ;  Cath- 
olic priests  in  broad-brimmed  Quaker  hats,  with  long  beards 
— for  though  they  must  be  clean-shaved  in  Europe,  they  have 
permission  to  wear  their  beards  in  Algeria ;  French  ladies  in 
bonnets  ;  French  servant  women  in  caps ;  Arab  women  tod- 
dling about,  wrapped  in  white  woollen  from  head  to  foot, 


224  SIGHTS     IN     THE     STREETS     OP     ORAN. 

with  but  one  eye  uncovered;  other  Arab  women  in  calico 
gowns  and  coarse  crimson  shawls  on  their  heads,  drawn  over 
the  lower  part  of  the  face ;  horsemen  reining  spirited  steeds 
of  Barbary — sometimes  a  French  officer,  sometimes  a  brown 
Arab,  the  better  rider  of  the  two,  and  proud  of  his  horseman- 
ship ;  camels  with  their  drivers  resting  at  an  angle  of  the 
way ;  little  drays  drawn  by  a  single  horse  or  mule,  briskly 
trotting  along  with  an  Arab  driver ;  files  of  mules  dragging 
loaded  wagons,  and  tinkling  their  little  bells,  and  rattling 
Droshkas  rapidly  driven  past  all  these,  on  their  way  to  the 
landing  or  some  neighboring  villages.  Through  this  mis- 
cellaneous crowd  we  made  our  way  up  the  hill,  and  alighted 
at  the  Hotel  de  France,  where  we  found  rooms  looking  upon 
a  great  public  square,  in  which  figures  like  those  we  had 
just  seen  were  constantly  passing  to  and  fro,  as  in  a  phan- 
tasmagoria. 

This  letter  is  already  so  long,  that  it  will  not  be  possible 
for  me  to  include  in  it  all  I  have  to  say  of  my  visit  to  Al- 
geria ;  I  therefore  stop  here  for  the  present.  Several  of  my 
letters  from  America  congratulate  me  on  having  wandered 
beyond  the  limits  of  the  commercial  panic,  which  has  so  con- 
vulsed our  own  country.  This  may  be  true  of  Algeria,  in 
which  I  now  write,  but  it  was  not  quite  true  of  Spain.  I 
had  occasion,  while  at  Malaga,  to  negotiate  a  draft  on  my 
banker  at  Paris ;  and  being  told  that  there  would  be  no  diffi- 
culty in  doing  it,  I  deferred  taking  any  step  in  the  matter 
till  my  return  from  Grenada.  But  the  panic  made  its  ap- 
pearance in  Malaga  during  my  absence,  like  the   sudden 


SPREAD     OF    THE     COMMERCIAL     PANIC.       225 

breaking-out  of  an  epidemic.  News  of  the  great  failures  in 
Hamburg  had  been  received,  and  several  houses  which  were 
powerful  and  prosperous  on  Monday  evening  were  bankrupt 
on  Tuesday  morning.  Money  seemed  to  have  disappeared 
in  the  course  of  a  night ;  to  hear  people  talk,  one  would  have 
supposed  that  there  were  not  ^ve  hundred  dollars  in  all 
Malaga.  So  I  reduced  my  draft  to  half  the  sum  I  thought 
of  at  first,  and  even  this  amount  would  not  have  been  ob- 
tained but  for  the  special  good  oflBces  of  the  Consul.  I  am 
happy  to  learn  that  in  America  the  cloud  is  passing  over,  and 
that,  one  by  one,  the  broken  links  of  commercial  intercourse 
are  rejoined. 


10* 


226  A     MOSQUE. 


LETTEE    XXI. 


ORAN ALGIERS. 


Steamer  Normandie,  Off  Majorca.  ^ 
Malaga,  December  22c?,  185Y.  ) 

The  city  of  Oran  was  held  for  three  centuries  by  Spain. 
In  1791  a  terrible  earthquake  shook  down  a  part  of  the  town, 
and  soon  afterwards  the  Spaniards,  thinking  it  not  worth 
while  to  defend  the  remainder  against  the  Algerines,  who 
harassed  them  with  continual  hostilities,  finally  abandoned  it. 
I  was  not  surprised,  therefore,  to  find  in  parts  of  the  town  a 
strong  resemblance  to  those  I  had  lately  visited  in  Spain. 
Before  our  hotel,  on  the  other  side  of  the  square,  was  a  street 
of  shops,  and  through  this  we  walked.  At  its  entrance  sat 
half  a  dozen  native  vendors  of  small  wares,  with  their  legs 
tucked  under  them,  on  little  platforms,  in  the  open  air.  Of 
the  shops,  some  were  mere  niches  in  the  walls,  where  sat  the 
Oriental  traders  among  their  goods ;  others  occupied  by  the 
Franks  were  but  little  larger,  and  reminded  me  of  the  shops 
of  Grenada  and  Malaga. 

Taking  another  direction,  we  entered  a  street  leading  to 
the  lower  part  of  the  city,  and  passed  through  a  Moorish  por- 
tal, rough  with  arabesque  ornaments,  into  the  court  of  the 


INTBEIOE     OP     THE     BUILDING.  227 

principal  mosque  of  Oran.  Here  we  found  several  workmen 
occupied  in  making  repairs,  for  the  French  government 
charges  itself  with  the  support  of  the  Mohammedan  worship 
in  Algeria,  as  it  does  with  that  of  the  Christian  and  the  Jew- 
ish worship  in  France.  It  repairs  and  rebuilds  the  mosques, 
gives  salaries  to  the  Imaums,  and  makes  the  Muezzins  its 
dependants  and  stipendiaries.  "  You  may  enter  freely,"  said 
the  workmen,  "  but  if  you  step  on  the  mats  you  must  first 
take  off  your  shoes."  We  entered,  and  found  ourselves  in  a 
forest  of  square  and  round  pillars,  supporting  Moorish  arches 
and  the  domes  above  them,  the  square  pillars  standing  in  a 
circle  under  the  central  dome.  The  arches  were  quaintly  and 
superlatively  Moorish,  the  two  ends  of  the  horse-shoe  approach- 
ing very  near  each  other,  but  in  other  respects  the  architecture 
was  exceedingly  plain ;  the  capitals  were  of  the  rudest  work- 
manship, and  the  whole  interior  as  white  as  simple  whitewash 
could  make  it.  "  This  is  a  very  copy  of  the  great  Cathedral 
of  Cordova,  which  was  formerly  a  mosque,"  said  one  who 
attended  us  ;  "in  all  but  the  ornamentation  and  the  dimen- 
sions, the  two  buildings  are  precisely  alike."  We  walked  about 
on  the  stucco  floor,  among  the  numerous  pillars,  taking  care 
not  to  pollute  with  our  shoes  the  mats  with  which  nearly  half 
the  floor  was  covered.  In  the  eastern  part  of  the  building 
were  two  worshippers  on  their  knees,  with  beads  in  their 
hands,  one  of  whom  took  no  notice  of  us,  but  continued  to 
murmur  his  orisons  and  to  strike  his  forehead  against  the 
floor,  but  the  other  fixed  a  steady  gaze  upon  us  till  we  with- 
drew. 


228  AN     ARAB     VILLAGE. 

From  one  of  the  city  gates  several  parallel  foot-paths  over 
the  green  led  to  an  Arab  village,  which  we  visited,  passing 
by  the  Civil  Hospital  on  the  right,  a  modern  structure  in  the 
Moorish  style,  and  an  old  fortress  on  the  left,  now  used  as  a 
prison.  On  each  side  of  the  way  the  grass  was  long  enough 
to  wave  in  a  gentle  wind.  The  village  is  a  collection  of  low 
flat-roofed  houses,  whitewashed,  with  a  broad  street  running 
north  and  south  through  the  middle,  and  narrow  lanes  diverg- 
ing to  the  right  and  left  among  the  houses.  As  we  were 
approaching  it,  an  Arab  overtook  us,  a  thin-bearded  little 
man,  with  a  face  slightly  tattooed  in  two  or  three  places,  and 
wearing  a  blue  outer  garment.  He  greeted  us  with  botijour, 
and  added,  ''vous  hromenief^  I  shook  my  head  as  not  com- 
prehending his  question,  and  he,  after  repeating  it  two  or 
three  times,  substituted  the  word  hasear,  I  then  perceived 
that  he  was  explaining  the  French  word  promener  by  the 
Spanish  pasear^  for  the  Arabs  of  these  parts  confound  the  p 
with  the  h.  "  Certainly,"  said  I,  "  we  are  walking  out." 
"Will  you  walk  to  my  house?"  he  asked.  I  declined,  but 
he  immediately  repeated  the  question  to  one  of  the  ladies, 
who,  not  aware  of  my  refusal,  accepted  the  invitation,  and  on 
we  went  under  his  guidance,  until  we  entered  an  enclosure 
surrounded  by  a  wall  freshly  whitewashed,  in  one  corner  of 
which  stood  his  house,  of  the  same  bright  color  with  the  wall. 
Within  it,  and  facing  the  open  door,  was  a  glittering  display 
of  small  dishes  and  plates  of  blue  and  white  porcelain  on 
several  rows  of  shelves ;  a  pallid  woman,  apparently  ill, 
lay  on   a   mat  at   one  end  of  the  room,  and  at  the  other 


AN     ARAB     BEAUTY.  229 

there  sat  on  the  floor,  with  a  bright-eyed  little  girl  beside  her, 
a  young  woman  of  rather  pleasing  aspect,  extremely  fat,  with 
well-formed  lips  and  chin,  and  large  black  eyes,  wearing  a 
gay-colored  handkerchief  tied  round  her  head,  and  another 
tied  under  her  chin,  and  a  loose  blue  muslin  robe,  from  under 
the  skirt  of  which  appeared  one  of  her  naked  feet.  On  each 
cheek  was  a  little  blue  mark,  and  her  jetty  eyebrows  were 
joined  by  a  streak  of  black  paint.  In  her  little  plump 
hands,  tattooed  and  stained  with  henna,  she  held  a  bellows, 
with  which  she  was  coaxing  a  flame  in  a  little  furnace  filled 
with  charcoal,  on  which  stood  a  small  dish  of  potatoes.  Our 
host,  whose  name,  as  he  afterwards  told  me,  was  Gannah, 
found  a  bench  for  the  ladies  and  a  chair  for  me,  seating  him- 
self on  the  floor ;  and  at  a  word  from  him,  the  little  girl  took 
the  potatoes  from  the  fire,  and  put  in  their  place  an  open  tin 
coffee-pot,  full  of  powdered  coflfee  and  water,  and  the  plump 
round  hands  of  the  fat  lady  again  plied  the  bellows  to  raise 
a  flame.  "  You  must  drink  coffee  with  me,"  said  Gannah. 
We  sought  to  decline  his  hospitality,  but  Gannah  was  reso- 
lute, and  a  contest  arose,  to  which  I  was  fortunately  enabled 
to  put  an  end  by  pointing  to  the  clouds,  apparently  big  with 
rain,  and  making  the  approach  of  a  shower  a  reason  for  our 
hasty  departure.  While  we  were  excusing  ourselves  from  the 
importunities  of  our  host,  a  negro  woman  in  a  loose  white 
dress,  with  bare  arms  and  uncovered  legs,  as  fleshless  and 
almost  as  slender  as  the  crooked  black  staff  on  which  she 
leaned,  a  bracelet  of  beads  on  her  bony  wrists,  a  long  string 
of  brown  beads  hanging  from  each  ear,  and  another  round 


230  GROUP     OF     NATIVE     YOUTHS. 

her  neck,  presented  herself  at  the  door,  looking  in  with  an 
aspect  of  curiosity  and  a  good-natured  smile ;  but  a  word 
from  Gannah  sent  her  away.  Two  lively-looking  little  girls 
entered  and  squatted  down  by  the  fat  lady,  but  Gannah 
growled  at  them  till  they  took  their  leave  also.  The  young 
woman,  in  the  mean  time,  had  reached  out  her  plump  hands, 
and  taking  hold  of  the  dresses  of  the  ladies,  one  after  another, 
examined  them  attentively,  making  some  brief  remark  to 
Gannah  at  the  close  of  each  inspection.  As  I  rose  to  take 
my  leave,  I  put  my  right  hand  into  my  waistcoat  pocket,  and 
immediately  her  open  palm  was  held  out  to  me ;  I  placed  a 
piece  of  money  into  it,  over  which  the  plump  fingers  closed 
eagerly.  "It  is  not  well,"  said  Gannah;  "it  is  not  well;" 
but  I  could  perceive  he  was  not  displeased. 

We  returned  to  the  hotel,  and  amused  ourselves  with 
watching  the  motley  crowd  constantly  moving  in  the  large 
square  under  our  windows.  Among  those  who  contributed 
most  to  our  entertainment  was  a  group  of  native  youths, 
from  fifteen  years  old  upwards,  dressed  in  the  scantiest  at- 
tire, a  red  cap  and  a  white  woollen  shirt,  some  of  them  be- 
longing to  the  pure  negro  race,  and  the  rest  of  different  de- 
grees of  Arab  intermixture,  who  chattered,  laughed,  shouted, 
sang,  capered,  chased  each  other  about  the  square,  and  teased 
each  other  in  a  hundred  different  ways,  as  long  as  the  sun- 
shine, which  had  now  returned,  lasted,  and  through  the  bril- 
liant twilight  that  followed. 

The  next  morning  I  wandered  into  a  village  lying  east 
of  the  city  gates,  and  inhabited  principally  by  emigrants 


THE     SURROUNDING   COUNTRY.  231 

from  Spain,  but  the  signs  over  the  shop  windows  were  all  in 
the  French  language,  which  seemed  to  imply  that  the  gift  of 
reading  and  writing  was  possessed  in  a  much  greater  degree 
by  the  French  population  than  by  the  Spanish.  I  followed 
the  highway  onwards  to  a  gentle  eminence,  where  stood  half 
a  dozen  windmills,  greeting  those  whom  I  met  in  Spanish, 
and  receiving  an  answer  in  the  same  language.  From  the 
summit  I  had  a  view  of  the  broad  plain  extending  southward 
to  the  mountains,  a  fertile  region,  where  great  tracts  of 
springing  wheat  were  separated  by  intervals  of  luxuriant 
grass,  which  a  few  cattle  were  eagerly  cropping.  A  cross- 
road brought  me  to  the  Arab  village  which  I  had  visited  the 
day  before.  As  I  entered  it,  two  youths  passed  me  dressed 
in  the  Oriental  garb ;  they  were  talking  to  each  other  in 
Spanish.  Here  and  there  stood  a  gray-bearded  Arab,  mo- 
tionless, in  his  white  head-gear  and  white  underdress,  with 
a  dark-colored  outer  garment  reaching  nearly  to  the  feet — 
thin,  spare  men,  to  whom  their  costume  gave  a  certain  air  of 
majesty.  Children  were  playing  about,  laughing,  shouting, 
and  crying,  just  as  children  laugh,  shout,  and  cry  in  the 
most  civilized  countries.  Women,  looking  like  bolsters 
placed  on  end  and  endowed  with  locomotion,  were  stealing 
along  the  streets  from  house  to  house. 

Keturning  to  toAvn  from  the  village,  I  was  surprised  by 
the  salutation  of  honjour  from  somebody  at  my  elbow,  and 
turning,  saw  my  Arab  acquaintance  of  the  day  before.  "  1 
was  going  to  your  hotel  to  see  you,"  said  Gannah.  "  Come 
then,"  I  answered,  and  we  proceeded  to  the  hotel  together. 


232  CASTLES     AND     FOKTRESSES. 

As  soon  as  he  was  fairly  seated,  lie  drew  from  under  his 
cloak  a  fowl,  freshly  killed,  with  the  feathers  on,  and  placed 
it  on  the  table.  "What  have  you  there,  my  friend?"  I 
asked.  "I  have  brought  you  a  fowl,"  answered  Gannah, 
"  you  will  buy  it  to  eat."  I  explained  to  him  that  this  would 
be  extremely  inconvenient ;  that  we  were  supplied  with 
every  thing  at  the  hotel,  and  on  board  of  our  steamer  ;  that 
we  could  not  cook  his  fowl  if  we  had  it ;  and  that  he  would 
do  well  to  dispose  of  it  in  the  market.  To  each  branch  of 
my  explanation,  Gannah  returned  a  resolute  "No;"  and  sat 
waiting  the  time  when  I  should  enter  into  a  negotiation  for 
the  fowl.  I  lost  patience,  and  leaving  the  room,  sent  our 
courier  to  get  rid  of  him.  Our  landlady  afterwards  told  me 
that  this  man  was  very  fond  of  making  the  acquaintance  of 
strangers  arriving  at  Oran,  and  was  sometimes  rather  troub- 
lesome with  his  attentions. 

In  walking  that  morning  about  the  town,  we  came  to  a 
minaret,  and  asked  to  see  the  mosque.  A  tall  Alsatian  sol- 
dier presented  himself  with  a  bunch  of  keys,  and  we  discov- 
ered that  the  mosque  had  been  converted  into  quarters  for 
the  troops.  He,  however,  took  us  to  the  top  of  the  minaret, 
commanding  a  view  of  the  city  and  its  neighborhood.  The 
hills  around  us  were  covered  with  the  strongholds  of  war, 
rising  one  over  another.  I  pointed  to  an  old  castle,  which 
had  a  ruinous  look.  "It  is  strong  enough  within,"  said  he  ; 
"  it  is  the  prison  for  the  natives."  Another  old  fortress  near 
us,  he  added,  was  the  prison  for  the  colonists.  "  There,"  he 
said,  "  is  the  new  fort  built  by  the  French  ;  yonder  is  a  for- 


SPANIARDS     IN     CAVES.  233 

tification  erected  by  the  Spaniards  when  they  possessed 
Oran ;  on  that  hill-side  is  the  storehouse  for  munitions  ; 
those  white  tents  further  up  are  occupied  by  the  soldiery." 
I  looked  down  into  the  streets  where  people  were  coming 
and  going,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  at  least  every  fifth  man 
was  a  soldier.  It  is  thus  that  the  colony  is  held  ;  the  gov- 
ernment requires  soldiers  to  keep  the  colonists  submissive, 
and  the  colonists  require  soldiers  to  overawe  and  restrain  the 
natives.  It  is  a  military  colony,  subsisting  by  force  and 
fear ;  and  while  my  eyes  rested  on  the  spectacle  before  me, 
I  could  not  help  thinking  how  slow  would  be  the  growth  of 
a  settlement  in  our  own  country,  which  held  its  existence  on 
such  calamitous  conditions. 

The  Alsatian  told  me,  that  in  the  Arab  village  which  we 
had  visited  the  day  before,  only  the  poorer  part  of  the  native 
population  lived  ;  the  more  opulent  have  their  dwellings  within 
the  gates  of  the  town,  and  some  of  them,  he  added,  are  as  rich 
as  noblemen  in -France.  I  directed  his  attention  to  several 
dark  mouths  of  caverns,  and  doors  fitted  into  the  rock,  on 
the  hill-side  rising  to  the  west  of  the  town.  "  These,"  said 
he,  "are  underground  habitations,  where  Spaniards  live. 
Last  year  we  had  so  much  rain  that  the  earth  and  stones 
over  some  of  these  caverns  were  loosened  by  the  water,  and 
came  down  upon  the  poor  creatures,  crushing  them  to 
death." 

Another  pleasant  drive  under  the  rocks,  Avith  the  dashing 
sea  on  one  side  and  the  flowery  cliflfs  on  the  other,  brought 
us  back  to  the  fort  and  landing  of  Merz-el-Kebir,  and  at 


234  ARRIVAL     AT     ALGIERS. 

four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  we  stood  out  of  the  bay  of  Oran, 
on  our  way  to  Algiers.  We  had  a  beautiful  evening,  with 
the  African  coast  always  in  sight,  and  the  morning  found  us 
gliding  over  a  smooth  sea,  with  the  shore  on  our  right  rising 
into  dark  mountains.  It  was  past  noon  when  we  turned  to 
approach  the  land,  and  began  to  distinguish  the  white  houses 
among  the  deep  green  of  the  shrubs  and  other  vegetation 
which  made  the  rocky  declivities  beautiful.  "  These  are  the 
country  seats,"  said  a  passenger  whom  we  took  up  at  Oran, 
*'  not  only  of  the  French  colonists,  but  of  the  rich  Jews  and 
of  the  Moors  engaged  in  commerce.  Some  of  the  richest  of 
the  Mussulman  inhabitants,  however,  went  away  when  the 
French  came  in  ;  went  to  Tunis,  to  Morocco,  and  to  Alexan- 
dria, and  other  places  where  the  Mussulmans  are  the  mas- 
ters." 

Now  came  in  sight  the  city  of  Algiers,  rising  from  the 
water  up  the  hill-side,  a  vast  cone  of  flat-roofed  houses,  as 
white  as  snow,  so  compact  as  to  look  like*  a  gigantic  bee- 
hive, with  not  a  streak,  or  patch,  or  shade  of  any  other  color 
between  them  ;  not  a  red  roof  nor  a  shrub  to  break  the  uni- 
form whiteness.  We  passed  the  pleasant-looking  village  of 
St.  Eugene,  and  coming  before  the  town  saw  where  the  bay 
swept  deeper  inland  to  the  south-east,  bordered  with  a  bright 
green  shore  and  scattered  country  seats.  On  expressing  my 
surprise  at  the  number  of  these,  a  passenger  answered  that 
there  was  no  occasion  for  surprise,  for  the  police  system  was 
as  perfect  here  as  in  France,  and  a  country  residence  as  safe. 

An  Arab  boatman  took  us  to  the  land  with  our  baggage 


LOWER     PART     OF     ALGIERS.  235 

at  which  the  custom-house  officers  declined  to  look.  We 
could  not  ol)tain  rooms  at  the  Hotel  de  r  Orient,  where  we 
meant  to  stop,  but  obtained  them  at  the  Hotel  de  la  Begence, 
a  house  to  which  I  cannot  conscientiously  advise  others  to  go. 
Yet  it  is  well  situated  on  the  Place  Eoyale,  a  broad  esplanade, 
built,  it  is  said,  over  the  cells  in  which  the  Christian  slaves 
were  formerly  confined,  and  at  all  hours  of  the  day  thronged 
with  men  of  the  various  races  of  the  East  and  West,  making 
it  look  like  a  perpetual  masquerade.  Before  the  door  of  our 
hotel  a  copious  fountain  threw  up  its  waters  with  a  perpetual 
dashing ;  four  rows  of  orange-trees,  protected  by  a  massive 
iron  chain,  glittered  with  golden  fruit,  and  I  never  looked 
out  that  I  did  not  see  Arabs  or  native  Jews  sitting  on  the 
stone  benches  under  them. 

The  lower  part  of  Algiers,  near  the  water,  is  a  mere 
French  town ;  it  has  its  broad  streets  for  carriages,  its  shops 
with  plate-glass  doors,  its  cafes,  its  restaurants,  its  theatre, 
its  library,  its  museum,  its  statues  in  the  squares,  its  bar- 
racks, its  guard-houses,  its  arcades  on  each  side  of  the  way, 
like  those  of  the  Kue  Eivoli  in  Paris.  All  that  was  charac- 
teristic, or  that  recalled  the  memory  of  the  Moslem  dominion, 
has  been  demolished.  The  palace  of  the  Deys,  which  looked 
upon  the  Place  Eoyale,  has  been  pulled  down  ;  the  ancient 
cemetery  which  contained  the  mausoleum  of  the  six  Deys, 
all  elected  and  murdered  within  twenty-four  hours,  has  been 
ploughed  up  and  levelled,  to  form  a  square  for  military  ex- 
ercises. I  was  soon  satisfied  with  the  view  of  this  part  of 
Algiers,  and  struck  into  the  streets  that  ascend  the  hill,  of 


236  UPPER     PART     OF     ALGIERS. 

which  the  town  is  principally  composed.  Here  I  found  my- 
self in  an  Oriental  city  at  once,  and  soon  met  with  nobody 
but  Orientals.  I  walked  in  a  sort  of  twilight,  in  narrow 
winding  lanes,  into  which  the  sun  never  shone,  where  the 
wind  never  blew,  and  where  the  projecting  walls  of  the 
houses  often  met  overhead.  No  windows  look  from  the 
dwellings  into  those  shadowy  lanes  ;  nobody  was  standing  at 
the  quaint  Moorish  doors.  Arab  men,  in  their  dresses  of 
dull  white,  were  creeping  about ;  I  did  not  hear  their  voices. 
I  met  little  companies  of  native  women,  swaddled  in  white, 
from  the  crown  of  their  head  to  where  the  pantaloons  were 
gathered  about  the  bare  ankles,  above  the  slippered  feet; 
they  passed  me  in  silence ;  only  the  younger  looked  at  me ; 
I  \  I  could  see  that  they  were  younger  by  a  glance ;  for  age 
\  \  plants  its  marks  as  distinctly  about  the  eyes  as  on  any  other 

I  Wrt  of  the  face.     In  a  spot  where  the  streets  opened  a  little, 

I I  passed  a  row  of  Mussulmans  sitting  on  the  pavement,  with 
their  backs  against  the  wall ;  they  turned  their  great  Orien- 
tal eyes  upon  me,  and  if  I  heard  their  voices  at  all,  it  was 
only  a  low,  indistinct  murmur.  I  could  almost  fancy  myself 
in  a  city  of  the  dead,  walking  among  the  spectres  that 
haunted  it.  My  own  footsteps  sounded  disagreeably  loud  in 
this  stillness,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  hear  the  click  of  a  don- 
key's small  hoofs  against  the  pavement,  and  the  voice  of  his 
driver  urging  him  along  passages  where  no  carriage  can 
pass,  and  not  even  a  hand-cart  was  ever  trundled.  It  was  a 
relief,  also,  to  come,  as  I  sometimes  did,  to  a  little  row  of 
shops  where  the  Moorish  traders  sat  among  their  good^. 


ITS     STARVING     POPULATION.  237 

Occasionally  I  saw  where  houses  had  been  thrown  down  by 
the  earthquake  which  happened  two  years  since,  and  where 
others  had  been  shaken  from  their  upright  position  and  made 
to  lean  against  each  other.  It  was  clear  to  me  that  if  the 
shock  had  been  a  little  more  violent,  those  narrow  streets 
would  have  offered  the  inhabitants  no  means  of  escape,  and 
that  they  would  have  been  hopelessly  entombed  in  their 
dwellings. 

It  was  some  time  before  I  could  find  my  way  out  of  this 
maze  of  twilight  lanes  into  the  broad  streets  along  the  shore, 
full  of  light  and  of  activity,  and  when  I  did  so,  it  was  like  a 
return  from  the  abodes  of  death  to  the  upper  world. 

The  melancholy  impression  which  this  ramble  in  the 
streets  of  Algiers  left  upon  me  was  not  without  good  reason. 
"  They  are  dying  very  fast  on  the  hills,  poor  creatures,"  said 
a  resident  of  Algiers  to  me  the  next  morning  ;  "  their  bodies 
are  going  to  fill  their  cemeteries.  Within  two  years  past, 
we  have  had  the  cholera  here,  which  swept  them  off  by  thou- 
sands ;  now  they  are  perishing  by  famine,  and  the  fevers  of 
the  country  and  other  disorders  occasioned  by  unwholesome 
nourishment.  While  Algiers  was  under  the  rule  of  the 
Deys,  a  native  could  subsist  on  a  few  sous  a  day,  and  this 
was  a  liberal  allowance ;  now  all  the  necessaries  of  life  are 
dear,  and  they  are  starving ;  the  trade  with  France  has 
brought  in  French  prices.  While  the  prickly  pear  was  in 
season,  they  lived  upon  that,  the  cheapest  fruit  of  the  country ; 
what  they  live  on  now,  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know.     The 


238  A     BEAUTIFUL     SUNSET. 

French  government  has  lately  taken  some  measures  for  their 
relief-" 

That  day  closed  as  the  most  beautiful  days  of  Italy  close, 
with  a  glorious  amber  light  at  sunset,  tinging  the  whole  at- 
mosphere, and  streaming  in  everywhere  at  the  windows,  even 
those  which  looked  north  and  east.  We  had  dates  that  day 
for  our  dessert  at  the  Hotel  de  la  Eegence,  dates  from  the 
palms  of  the  neighborhood,  but  they  were  not  so  fine  as  the 
dates  of  Elche,  which  we  found  at  Alicante. 


THE     GREAT     MOSQUE.  239 


LETTEE  XXII. 


ALGIERS ALGERIA. 


Marseilles,  December  29,  1857. 
The  day  after  our  arrival  in  Algiers  was  like  one  of  the 
balmiest  days  of  spring.    We  all  went  to  see  the  great  Mosque 
near  the  Place  Royale.     Before  it,  a  portico  of  massive  Sara- 
cenic columns  encloses  a  court  in  which  flows  an  abundant 
fountain  for  the  ablutions  of  the  worshippers.     Within,  the 
appearance  is  striking ;  the  massive  horseshoe  arches,  which 
are  crossed  by  broad  horizontal  flutings,  descend  to  low,  heavy 
pillars,  which  have  the  effect  of  a  grove  of  vast  trunks,  spread- 
ing upwards  into  lofty  canopies.    I  cast  my  eyes  beyond  them, 
and  there,  looking  no  larger  than  insects  beside  these  great 
columns,  were  half  a  dozen  natives  at  their  morning  devotions. 
A  strange-looking  man,  with  an  air  of  abstraction,  was  wan- 
dering about.     "  He  is  crazy,"  said  a  gentleman  who  had 
kindly  conducted  us  to  the  mosque;   "and  being  crazy,  is 
regarded  as  a  saint  and  called  a  marabout."    Some  of  the 
columns  of  the  mosque  had  been  broken  and  a  part  of  the 
wall  damaged  by  the  late  earthquake,  and  workmen  employ- 
ed by  the  government  were  busy  in  repairing  it. 


I 


240  A     PUBLIC     GARDEN. 

On  our  return  from  this  building,  we  peeped  into  the  hall 
of  an  Arab  tribunal,  where  the  muftis  and  cadis  still  dispense 
justice.  It  was  a  room  of  very  moderate  dimensions,  on  the 
lower  floor,  and  at  that  time  open  to  the  street,  but  the  mag- 
istrates were  not  in  session,  though  their  cushions  were  ready 
to  receive  them.  At  a  little  distance  from  this  is  the  New 
Mosque,  remarkable  only  for  being  built  in  the  form  of  a 
church,  under  the  direction  of  a  Christian  slave,  and  for  the 
fate  of  the  architect,  whose  head  was  struck  off,  by  order  of 
the  Dey,  for  his  audacity  in  making  a  temple  of  the  faith- 
ful resemble  the  temples  of  the  infidel. 

We  followed  the  main  street  northward  till  we  issued 
from  the  city  by  the  northern  gate,  the  Bab-el-  Wad,  or  Eiver 
Gate ;  for  here  a  ravine,  called  by  the  Arabs  the  river,  de- 
scends to  the  sea,  and  overlooking  it  rise  the  northern  walls  and 
battlements  of  Algiers.  From  these  battlements,  they  tell  you, 
the  Deys  caused  prisoners  of  state  to  be  thrown  alive,  and 
their  bodies  being  caught  on  the  ends  of  iron  spikes  below, 
they  were  left  to  perish  by  slow  tortures.  Those  who  had 
the  means  bribed  the  executioner  to  strangle  them  before 
throwing  them  down.  From  the  gate,  a  broad  Macadamized 
road  led  us  up  to  a  public  garden,  laid  out  by  the  French, 
within  which  a  winding  walk,  where  a  species  of  oxalis,  new 
to  me,  made  a  beautiful  deep  green  border,  spotted  with 
showy  crimson  flowers,  separated  beds  filled  with  the  fairest 
plants  of  the  tropics.  Among  these  was  the  India-rubber 
tree  ;  and  by  the  wayside  were  rows  of  young  palms,  of  which 
those  that  were  already  ten  or  twelve  years  old  had  stems 


MOSLEM     CEMETERY    AND    CHAPELS.  241 

scarcely  a  foot  in  height,  for  the  date-palm  is  of  slow  growth, 
and  when  it  once  germinates  begins  a  life  of  many  centuries. 

In  a  nook  of  the  garden  stood  a  group  of  paper-mul- 
berry trees,  the  leaves  of  which  were  withered  and  rolled  up, 
as  if  scorched  by  fire  or  seared  by  frost.  I  inquired  what 
might  be  the  cause  of  this  phenomenon.  "It  is  the  sirocco," 
answered  the  gentleman  who  was  with  us ;  "a  sirocco  which 
blew  here  three  weeks  since.  No  one,  who  has  not  felt  the 
sirocco,  can  form  any  idea  of  its  effects ;  it  withers  up  vege- 
tation in  a  few  hours ;  it  dries  up  the  springs ;  it  bakes  the 
soil,  and  makes  it  open  in  long  and  deep  clefts.  Men  and 
animals  suffer  as  much  as  the  plants  and  trees."  The  leaves 
of  the  paper-mulberry,  which  is  a  native  of  a  moister  climate, 
were,  it  seems,  scorched  beyond  remedy  by  this  wind  of  the 
desert,  while  the  leaves  of  the  native  trees  had  recovered 
their  freshness. 

About  this  time  the  muezzin  was  proclaiming  the  noontide 
hour  of  prayer  from  the  minaret  of  a  mosque  further  up  the 
hill,  and  towards  this  we  proceeded,  leaving  the  garden.  We 
came  first  to  a  Moslem  cemetery,  and  here  we  were  in  a  sacred 
neighborhood ;  for  here  was  not  only  a  mosque,  but  two  mara- 
bouts, or  little  Moslem  chapels,  each  containing  the  remains 
of  some  holy  man  of  the  religion  of  Islam ;  and  low  arched 
passages  led  from  one  enclosure  of  the  cemetery  to  another, 
and  from  mosque  to  marabout,  and  in  these  passages  foun- 
tains were  gushing  for  the  ablutions  of  the  faithful.  Women 
in  white,  their  faces  covered  with  white  veils,  showing  only 
the  eyes,  hovered  about  the  graves,  which  looked  quaintly, 
11 


242  WOMEN     AT     THE     GRAVES. 

with  their  little  borders  of  thin  stone,  set  edgewise  in  the 
ground,  and  the  Arabic  inscriptions  on  the  stones  at  the  head. 
Wherever  I  turned  my  eyes,  veiled  women,  dressed  in  white, 
were  softly  coming  up  the  streets  from  below,  or  down  the 
paths  that  led  from  the  top  of  the  hill.  Women  are  the  same 
tender,  affectionate,  religious  creatures  in  Algiers  as  in  more 
civilized  countries ;  they  cherish  as  warmly  the  memory  of  the 
dead,  and  their  hearts  open  as  readily  to  the  feeling  of  an 
intimate  relation  with  an  omnipresent  and  benevolent  Power. 
We  entered  the  mosque,  which  contained  nothing  remark- 
able, and  the  marabouts,  which  did.  In  each  of  them  was  the 
sarcophagus  of  a  saint,  and  one  of  them  was  furnished  with 
two  or  three,  covered  with  a  silken  cloth  of  a  dark  yellow  color, 
heavy  with  gold  embroidery,  and  hanging  down  like  a  pall. 
About  them  women  were  kneeling,  most  of  them  apparently 
absorbed  in  their  silent  devotions,  occasionally  kissing  the 
drapery  of  the  tomb,  but  not  a  word  was  uttered.  The  young 
girls  gazed  at  us  with  their  black,  almond-shaped  eyes,  and 
one  or  two  of  the  elder  ones  looked  at  us,  I  thought,  as  if  they 
wondered  what  business  we  had  there.  The  women  in  Mo- 
hammedan countries  are  excluded  from  the  mosques,  but  there 
are  other  holy  places  open  to  them,  and  they  throng  to  the 
burial-places  and  the  marabouts.  We  saw  only  one  or  two 
men,  who  came  in  and  soon  went  out  again.  In  one  of  the 
marabouts,  a  man  in  a  large  turban,  walking  with  a  fantastic 
gait,  approached  the  tomb  of  the  saint,  smiling  a  silly  smile, 
pressed  the  embroidered  cloth  to  his  lips,  and  went  out  witli 
the  same  smile  on  his  face,  touching  me  gently  with  his  hand 


A    WOMAN     ASKING     ALMS.  243 

as  he  passed.  "  Poor  fellow,"  said  the  gentleman  who  was 
with  us,  "  he  has  lost  his  wits :  his  wife  died,  and  he  became 
crazy  in  consequence." 

As  we  descended  the  hill,  we  passed  several  little  compa- 
nies of  women,  and  some  who  sat  by  the  wayside  and  asked 
alms.  One  of  these  was  a  little  thin  woman  in  a  clean  white 
dress,  whose  eyes,  which  were  all  of  her  face  that  could  be 
seen,  gave  token  of  the  middle  age  of  life.  She  silently  held 
out  a  small  hand,  with  nails  sharpened  to  a  point  like  the 
nib  of  a  pen,  and  the  ends  of  the  slender  fingers  were  red- 
dened with  henna.  I  see  that  delicate,  thin  hand  now  as  I 
write,  and  as  I  always  see  it  when  I  recollect  our  walk  of 
that  day,  and  my  heart  smites  me  when  I  think  that  I  put 
nothing  into  it. 

"We  afterwards  went  up  to  the  Casbah,  a  former  residence 
of  the  Deys,  serving  both  as  a  fortress  and  a  palace,  but  now 
turned  into  barracks  for  the  troops.  A  great  deal  that  was 
characteristic  in  this  building  has  been  altered  or  defaced, 
but  the  court  of  the  harem,  with  its  slender  columns  carved 
in  Italy,  and  the  tiles  brought  from  Holland,  with  which  its 
walls  were  inlaid,  are  there  yet^  though  the  rooms  are  occupied 
by  the  French  officers  and  their  families.  There  also  were 
the  openings  in  the  parapets  of  the  roof,  through  which  the 
ladies  of  the  seraglio  looked  upon  the  town  below,  themselves 
unseen.  I  wondered  that  the  whole  was  not  preserved  as  near- 
ly as  possible  in  its  original  state,  if  not  as  a  curiosity,  yet  at 
least  as  a  memento  of  the  conquest  of  a  city  which  had  so 
long  defied  all  Christendom  and  compelled  it  to  pay  tribute. 


244  THE     CASBAH.        A     SCHOOL. 

The  view  of  the  surrounding  country  from  the  height  of 
the  Casbah  is  very  striking — its  fertile  valleys  in  their  win- 
ter verdure ;  the  dark  range  of  the  Atlas  to  the  southeast, 
and  beyond  the  Atlas,  the  snowy  range  of  the  Djudjura.  A 
scarcely  less  interesting  sight  was  before  us  in  the  housetops 
of  the  natives,  where  were  sometimes  seen  the  women  in 
their  light  gauze  dresses,  without  their  veils,  occupied  in  their 
domestic  tasks.  "  These  housetops,"  remarked  our  compan- 
ion, "  were  fatal  to  some  of  the  French,  when  they  first  occu- 
pied Algiers,  and  had  not  learned  the  necessity  of  caution. 
They  were  naturally  curious  to  get  a  peep  at  the  Moorish 
women,  and  carrying  their  investigations  too  far,  were  shot 
through  the  head,  without  its  being  ever  known  from  what 
hand  the  ball  came." 

In  going  down  from  the  Casbah  through  the  dreary  maze 
of  dim  lanes,  that  made  me  think  of  the  passages  in  an  ant- 
hill, we  came  to  an  Arab  school,  the  door  of  which  was  open 
to  the  street.  In  the  midst  of  a  crowd  of  boys,  seated  with- 
out any  particular  order  on  the  floor,  sat  the  long-bearded  and 
turbaned  master,  in  a  white  Arab  dress,  with  his  back  against 
the  wall,  and  a  stick  in  his  hand,  like  that  with  which  the 
New  England  farmers  drive  their  oxen,  long  enough  to  reach 
the  most  distant  corner  of  the  room.  The  boys  were  all 
shouting  their  lessons  together,  and  woe  to  the  wight  who  was 
silent. 

Just  before  we  entered  upon  the  broader  streets  of  the 
city,  we  stopped  at  a  building,  once  a  Moorish  dwelling  of 
the  first  order,  in  which  a  French  school  for  young  ladies 


A    MOORISH     HOUSE.  245 

was  now  kept.  A  polite  young  woman  showed  us  over  the 
rooms.  Here  at  the  entrance  was  the  spacious  ante-room, 
where  the  guests  of  the  Moorish  owner  were  lodged,  and  be- 
yond which  no  person  of  the  male  sex  was  allowed  to  pene- 
trate ;  here  was  the  inner  court,  with  its  columns  sculptured 
in  Italy,  and  its  fountain  in  the  midst ;  here  were  walls  gay 
with  Dutch  tiles ;  here  was  the  staircase  leading  to  the  se- 
cret apartments,  and  here  on  the  third  floor,  was  the  mara- 
bout, or  little  chapel,  in  which  the  family  offered  their  pray- 
ers. It  is  now  dedicated  to  the  Virgin,  a  little  image  of 
whom,  crowned  with  a  chaplet  of  artificial  roses,  in  miniature, 
stood  on  a  pedestal.  I  inquired  the  number  of  pupils  in 
this  school.  ''  There  are  one  hundred  and  twenty-nine  of 
them,"  said  the  young  lady.  "  Any  natives  1 "  "  Many ; 
the  daughters  of  Israelites,  who  here  receive  a  European  ed- 
ucation." 

At  an  early  hour  on  the  following  day,  we  went  to  visit 
the  markets  of  Algiers.  We  followed  a  street  cut  through 
the  graves  of  an  old  cemetery,  where  the  cells  of  the  dead  in 
the  ground  could  be  distinguished  in  the  bank  on  either  side. 
A  large  building,  too  spacious  for  so  slender  a  commerce,  for 
the  present  at  least,  serves  as  an  oil  market.  Here  goat- 
skins, filled  with  oil,  and  shining  and  slippery  with  the  fluid 
they  contained,  lay  in  heaps  on  the  ground,  and  around  stood 
groups  of  people  from  the  interior.  "  They  are  Kabyles,  the 
ancient  Berbers,"  said  our  conxpanion  ;  "  they  inhabit  the 
Atlas  and  the  Djudjura  mountains ;  observe  them  closely, 
and  you  will  perceive  in  what  respects  they  differ  from  the 


246  THE     KABYLES. 

Arabs."  I  took  a  good  look  at  them,  and  before  I  left  Al- 
giers, I  thought  I  could  generally  distinguish  a  Kabyle  from 
an  Arab.  They  have  a  clearer  complexion,  and  features 
moulded,  if  not  with  more  regularity,  certainly  with  more 
delicacy.  They  are  like  the  Basques,  a  primitive  race,  in- 
habiting like  them  the  mountains  which  their  fathers  inhab- 
ited in  the  time  of  the  Eoman  empire.  They  seemed  to  me 
an  intelligent-looking  race ;  and  if  put  into  the  European 
costume,  they  would  attract  no  particular  notice  in  our  coun- 
try, by  any  peculiarity  of  physiognomy  or  color,  though  im- 
memorially  an  African  branch  of  the  human  family. 

We  entered  next  the  great  country  market,  heaped  with 
all  those  vegetables  which  are  the  summer  growth  of  our  own 
gardens.  Here,  too,  were  piles  of  oranges  from.Blidah,  the 
finest  of  their  kind,  already  sweet,  while  the  oranges  of 
Malaga  are  almost  as  sour  as  lemons.  Here  were  men  sit- 
ting by  huge  panniers  of  olives ;  they  v/ere  Kabyles,  the 
sides  of  whose  mountains  are  shaded  by  olive  groves.  In  an 
adjoining  enclosure,  donkeys  were  tied,  and  camels  were  rest- 
ing on  the  ground.  After  eight  o'clock  this  market  is 
closed,  the  Arab  cultivators  get  upon  their  donkeys  and  de- 
part for  the  villages  of  the  plain ;  the  Kabyles  mount  their 
camels,  and  are  on  their  way  to  the  mountains. 

In  returning  to  our  hotel,  we  passed  several  negro  women 
sitting  by  the  way,  with  baskets  of  bread  or  of  fruit  for  sale, 
and  met  others  carrying  burdens  on  their  heads  or  in  their 
arms.  "  These  persons,"  said  our  friend,  "  were  slaves  some 
years  since,  and  the  French  conquest  set  them  free.     Their 


NEGRO     WOMEN.  247 

.conduct  since  shows  what  good  creatures  they  are;  their  for- 
mer owners  have  fallen  into  extreme  poverty,  and  these 
women  support  them  by  their  industry."  Of  course,  those 
who  were  slaves  before  the  French  conquest,  which  took 
place  in  1830,  could  not  be  very  young  now,  yet  I  was 
astonished  to  see  how  some  of  them  had  been  dried  to  skele- 
tons by  time  and  the  climate ;  they  seemed  the  very  person- 
ification of  famine. 

This  morning,  the  20th  of  December,  we  received  a  sum- 
mons to  return  to  our  steamer,  which  was  about  to  leave  the 
port.  We  should  have  thought  ourselves  fortunate  if  at  this 
agreeable  season — for  such  Ave  found  it  on  the  African  coast 
— we  could  have  found  a  little  time  to  make  excursions  into 
the  surrounding  country ;  to  visit  Blidah,  pleasantly  embow- 
ered in  its  orange  groves ;  the  picturesque  village  of  Ste. 
Amalie,  famous  for  its  Koman  ruins  ;  the  no  less  remarkable 
region  of  Koleah,  celebrated  for  its  magnificent  mosque, 
erected  close  to  the  tomb  of  a  benevolent  Arab,  venerated  as 
a  saint ;  or  to  penetrate  into  one  or  two  of  the  fresh  valleys 
of  the  Atlas ;  but  we  had  taken  our  passage  for  Marseilles, 
and  otherwise  so  arranged  the  plan  of  our  tour  that  we  had 
no  time  to  spare  for  Africa.  At  noon  we  went  on  board, 
and  our  steamer  left  the  bay.  As  we  receded  from  the  shore, 
the  site  of  Algiers  looked  more  imposing  than  ever,  with  its 
lofty  cone  of  white  houses  rising  from  the  edge  of  the  sea, 
and  crowned  with  the  great  fortress  of  the  Casbah,  and  on 
each  side  its  declivities  of  vivid  green,  spotted  with  country 
houses. 


248        EUROPEAN    POPULATION     OF     ALGERIA. 

Those  parts  of  the  colony  of  Algeria  which  came  under 
my  observation,  gave  me  an  impression  of  activity  and  pros- 
perity. The  French  seem  to  take  great  pride  in  this  off- 
shoot of  their  power,  and  apply  to  the  rule  of  their  new 
provinces  all  the  energy  and  precision  of  their  peculiar  po- 
litical and  social  organization.  The  possession  of  Algeria,  a 
larger  territory  than  France,  though  part  of  it  extends  over 
deserts,  gratifies  their  love  of  dominion,  and  justifies  the 
claim  of  their  government  to  be  entitled  an  empire.  Yet,  the 
growth  of  the  European  settlements  is  really  slow.  In  the 
three  different  provinces  of  Algeria,  the  European  popula- 
tion, in  the  year  1852,  amounted  to  124,000 ;  in  1856  it 
was  160,000.  An  increase  of  thirty-six  thousand  in  four 
years  certainly  does  not  imply  that  emigrants  are  very  pow- 
erfully attracted  to  that  quarter.  There  may  be  various 
reasons  for  this :  they  may  prefer  a  country  with  freer  insti- 
tutions than  Algeria  offers  them ;  they  may  prefer  a  colony 
maintained  at  less  expense ;  or  they  may  doubt  the  healthi- 
ness of  its  climate.  I  do  not  refer  to  the  plague,  which  has 
several  times  desolated  Algiers,  or  to  the  cholera,  which  two 
years  since  made  frightful  ravages  among  the  native  popula- 
tion, but  to  permanent  local  causes  of  disease.  Oran,  since 
it  came  into  possession  of  the  French,  has  several  times  been 
visited  by  fatal  epidemics ;  the  year  1850  is  memorable  for 
the  havoc  they  made.  Yet  they  will  tell  you  at  Oran  that 
the  place  is  healthy  and  the  air  pure ;  and  that  the  only 
cause  of  disease  is  the  filthy  manner  in  which  the  Spanish 
population  live.    In  the  province  of  Algiers  there  are  numer- 


HEALTH  OF  THE  COUNTRY.         249 

ous  places  chosen  as  the  site  of  colonies  which  are  proverbial- 
ly unhealthy.  At  Foudouk,  twenty-four  miles  from  the 
capital,  the  population  has  been  swept  off  and  renewed  seve- 
ral times.  Of  La  Chiffa  the  same  thing  is  said.  Bouffarik, 
on  the  rich  plain  of  Mitidja,  has  been  called  a  cemetery,  so 
surely  did  the  colonists  who  went  thither  go  to  their  graves. 
Various  other  stations  of  the  European  population  have  a 
reputation  which  is  little  better  than  that  of  Bouffarik.  Yet 
there  are  answers  ready,  when  this  objection  is  brought 
against  Algeria  as  a  place  of  settlement  for  the  superfluous 
population  of  Europe.  There  have  been  marshes,  it  is  said, 
which  made  a  pestiferous  atmosphere ;  but  the  marshes  have 
been  drained  and  the  causes  of  insalubrity  carefully  removed. 
No  doubt  something  has  been  done  in  this  way,  but  the  fact 
remains,  that  the  country  is  subject  to  fevers,  and  that  these 
are  of  a  peculiarly  obstinate  character.  One  who  had  re- 
sided several  years  in  the  city  of  Algiers,  said  to  me  :  "  You 
would  be  much  interested  by  an  excursion  into  the  country, 
but  you  would  have  to  be  on  your  guard  against  our  fevers, 
even  in  the  winter." 

Earthquakes  also  are  frequent  and  terrible  in  Algeria, 
overturning  the  towns  and  burying  the  inhabitants  under 
their  walls.  Several  times  has  Algiers  been  shaken  by 
earthquakes  into  a  mass  of  ruins  ;  the  last  earthquake,  two 
years  since,  destroyed  several  houses  and  made  others  un- 
safe. The  whole  plain  of  Mitidja,  so  late  as  1825,  was  des- 
olated by  an  earthquake,  which  laid  waste  several  villages, 
11* 


250      DECAY     OF     THE     NATIVE     POPULATION. 

and  extending  to  Blidah,  one  of  the  pleasantest  towns  in  the 
province,  threw  down  all  the  dwellings. 

Of  the  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  emigrants  from  Eu- 
rope, not  quite  two-thirds  are  French.  The  Spaniards 
amount  to  nearly  forty-two  thousand,  and  they  come  from 
the  south-eastern  coast  of  Spain,  and  from  the  Balearic 
Islands.  The  hot  island  of  Malta,  which  sends  such  num- 
bers to  every  part  of  the  East,  has  furnished  seven  thousand 
to  Algeria.  There  is  about  the  same  number  of  Germans 
and  Swiss,  and  of  Italians  there  are  nine  thousand.  The 
number  of  Protestants  in  all  this  population  is  a  little  less 
than  five  thousand ;  but  they  have  brought  with  them  their 
worship  and  their  religious  teachers.  The  rest  of  the  Eu- 
ropean emigration  is  Catholic,  and  the  Galilean  Church  has 
its  bishops  in  each  of  the  three  provinces  of  Algeria. 

The  time  must  shortly  arrive  when  Algiers  will  be  alto- 
gether a  French  city,  and  all  the  ports  on  the  coast  will  be 
inhabited  by  families  of  European  origin  or  descent.  At 
present,  Algiers  is  supposed  to  contain  in  its  walls  and  sub- 
urbs a  hundred  thousand  persons,  chiefly  of  the  original 
Moslem  population,  but  of  these  the  number  is  rapidly  di- 
minishing. They  have  but  few  arts  or  occupations  which 
they  can  sliccessfully  pursue  in  competition  with  the  artisans 
and  workmen  from  Europe;  and  while  this  is  the  case  it  will 
be  their  fate  to  waste  away  from  year  to  year.  As  they 
drop  off,  their  places  will  be  supplied  by  emigrants  from 
Europe.     A  vast  mass  of  Moslem  population  will  remain  in 


DEPARTURE     FROM     ALGIERS.  251 

the  interior,  which  for  a  long  time  to  come  will  be  but  slowly 
affected  by  the  influences  of  European  civilization. 

In  the  mean  time,  it  may  be  instructive  to  hear  what  the 
French  themselves  say  of  the  colony  of  Algeria.  They  com- 
plain that  the  great  proportion  of  those  who  migrate  thither 
from  France,  do  not  go  to  cultivate  the  soil,  but  to  make 
their  fortune  by  some  speculation — by  the  commerce  in 
wines  and  liquors,  by  opening  hotels,  cafes,  and  restaurants, 
by  purchasing  lands  to  be  sold  at  a  higher  price,  and  a  thou- 
sand other  ways  which  involve  no  necessity  of  labor.  The 
proportion  of  the  town  to  the  country  population  shows  this 
complaint  to  be  well  founded.  The  rural  population  of  Al- 
geria derived  from  Europe  is  but  sixty  thousand,  and  of  these 
not  quite  fifty  thousand  are  engaged  in  agriculture.  The 
colony  is  still  too  much  a  military  and  commercial  colony  to 
increase  rapidly. 

It  was  a  delightful  afternoon  when  we  left  Algiers,  but 
before  we  lost  sight  of  it,  a  black  cloud  gathered  above  its 
hills,  and,  apparently,  broke  over  it  in  a  deluge  of  rain.  The 
rain  reached  us  also,  a  little  after  sunset,  and  then  a  strong 
head  wind  sprung  up,  roughening  the  hitherto  sleeping  sea, 
and  making  the  night  most  uncomfortable.  At  every  high 
wave,  the  rudder  of  the  Normandie  had  a  trick  of  thumping 
1  the  timbers  on  each  side,  with  a  succession  of  quick  and  vio- 
lent blows,  which  shook  the  vessel  fearfully,  and  made  sleep 
impossible.  We  labored  on  in  this  manner  until  the  second 
night  after  our  departure,  when,  as  we  were  passing  between 
Majorca  and  the  neighboring  island  of  Minorca,  an  accident 


252  ARRIVAL     AT     MARSEILLES. 

happened  to  an  air-pump  of  the  steam  engine,  which  obliged 
us  to  stop  in  the  middle  of  our  course.  For  fourteen  hours 
we  lay  idly  rolling  on  the  w^ater,  with  the  mountainous  coast 
of  Majorca  beside  us.  The  air-pump  was  at  length  mended, 
and  we  proceeded,  gaining  next  day  a  view  of  the  snowy 
summits  of  the  Pyrenees,  which  sent  towards  us  a  keen, 
sharp  wind  from  the  north-west.  On  the  fourth  morning  we 
arrived  at  Marseilles,  which  gave  but  a  chilly  welcome  to 
those  who  had  just  left  a  region  glowing  with  sunshine,  and 
fanned  by  airs  that  make  the  winter  only  a  longer  spring. 
Marseilles  is  a  stately  and  prosperous  city,  nobly  situated  on 
a  harbor,  which  I  wonder  not  that  the  Greeks  should  have 
chosen  as  the  seat  of  their  commerce  with  Gaul ;  but  its 
damp  and  frosty  winds,  and  its  sunless  streets,  make  it  just 
now  a  gloomy  and  dreary  abode.  The  grippe  is  a  prevalent 
malady  here,  and  we  are  only  waiting  for  one  of  our  party 
to  recover  a  little  from  an  attack  of  it,  to  flit  to  a  warmer 
coast. 


F 


ANTIQUITIES     AT     ROME.  253 


LETTEE    XXIII. 

DISCOVERY   OF  ANTIQUITIES   AT   ROME — ^RECENT   CHANGES. 

Rome,  May  21,  1858. 

I  HAVE  one  or  two  things  to  say  of  Eome  which  may  fur- 
nish matter  for  a  short  letter. 

Kome  has  its  rich  collections  of  ancient  art  in  the  Vatican, 
but  there  is  a  still  richer  museum  in  the  earth  below.  The 
spade  can  scarcely  be  thrust  into  the  ground  without  turning 
up  some  work  of  art  or  striking  upon  some  monument  of  the 
olden  time.  Most  of  the  fine  statues  in  the  public  galleries 
have,  I  believe,  been  discovered  in  digging  to  lay  the  founda- 
tions of  buildings ;  and  who  can  tell  what  masterpieces 
of  Greek  sculpture  are  yet  concealed  under  that  thick  layer 
of  rubbish  which  overlies  the  ancient  level  of  the  city — what 
representations  of 

"The  fair  humanities  of  old  religion" 

are  waiting  the  hour  when  they  shall  be  restored  to  daylight 
and  the  admiration  of  the  world — ^prostrate  Jupiters,  nymphs 
with  their  placid  features  and  taper  limbs  imbedded  in  the 
mould,  and  merry  fauns  that  have  smiled  for  a  thousand 
years  in  the  darkness  of  the  ground ! 


254     EXCAVATIONS  IN  THE  CAMPAGNA. 

The  present  government  of  Kome  is  turning  its  attention 
to  the  excavation  of  those  spots  which  promise  most.  As  I 
was  passing,  the  other  day,  in  a  street  leading  towards  the 
Colosseum,  in  company  with  an  American  artist  residing  here, 
he  said,  pointing  to  certain  ancient  columns,  the  lower  part  of 
which  stood  deep  in  the  earth:  "The  Pope  wants  to  dig 
about  these  columns,  but  the  spot  is  leased,  and  he  cannot. 
If  it  were  but  in  the  possession  of  those  who  own  the  fee  he 
might  take  it,  but  he  cannot  interfere  with  a  lease.  At  the 
foot  of  those  fine  old  columns  he  would  probably  find  some- 
thing worth  his  trouble." 

This  passion  for  excavation  has  been  fortunately  gratified 
elsewhere.  If  you  look  at  Sir  William  Gell's  Map  of  the 
Environs  of  Kome,  you  will  see  traced,  from  near  the  gate 
of  St.  John  towards  Monte  Cavo,  beyond  the  Alban  lake,  an 
ancient  road  bearing  the  name  of  Via  Latina.  If  you  look 
for  it  on  the  Campagna,  you  will  find  it  covered  with  grass, 
and  cattle  grazing  over  it.  On  the  line  of  this  buried  street, 
and  not  far  from  the  city  walls,  workmen  employed  by  the 
Pope  are  breaking  the  green  turf  and  trenching  the  ground 
to  a  considerable  depth.  They  have  laid  bare  several  solid 
masses  of  Eoman  masonry,  and  the  foundations  of  an  ancient 
Christian  church,  a  basilica,  over  which  were  scattered,  in 
the  soil,  many  marble  columns  with  Corinthian  capitals  and 
bases  on  which  is  carved  the  figure  of  the  cross,  indicating 
beyond  a  question  the  purpose  of  the  building.  But  the 
most  remarkable  of  these  discoveries  are  two  places  of  sepul- 
ture, consisting  of  vaulted  rooms  in  the  earth,  to  which  you 


SEPULCHRAL     CHAMBEES.  255 

descend  by  staircases  of  stone.  The  earth  had  fallen  into 
the  entrances  and  closed  them,  but  had  not  filled  the  space 
within,  so  that  the  stucco  medallions  and  paintings  overhead 
were  found  in  as  perfect  preservation  as  w^hen  they  came  from 
the  hands  of  the  artist.  In  one  of  these  tombs,  which  con- 
sisted of  a  single  vaulted  chamber  with  a  pure  white  surface, 
I  found  an  artist  perched  upon  a  high  seat  over  two  huge 
stone  coffins,  copying  the  spirited  and  fanciful  figures  of  men 
and  animals,  in  stucco,  with  which  the  arched  ceiling  was 
studded.  The  other  tomb  is  larger  and  deeper  in  the  ground, 
and  consists  of  two  vaulted  chambers,  communicating  with 
each  other,  against  the  walls  of  which  stood  marble  sarcoph- 
agi, rough  with  figures  in  high  relief.  On  the  ceiling  of 
one  of  the  rooms,  among  the  stucco  medallions,  were  ara- 
besques in  vivid  colors,  and  landscapes  in  fresco,  which  show 
a  far  more  advanced  stage  of  this  branch  of  the  art  than 
any  thing  which  has  been  found  at  Pompeii.  They  are 
painted  in  what  seemed  to  me  a  kind  of  neutral  tint.  Here 
are  trees  with  gnarled  branches,  and  foliage  drawn  with  a 
free  and  graceful  touch,  and  buildings  rising  among  the  trees, 
and  figures  of  people  engaged  in  rural  employments  ;  and  all 
is  given  with  a  decided  and  skilful  aerial  perspective,  the  ob- 
jects becoming  less  distinct  and  sharp  in  outline  as  they 
are  supposed  to  recede  from  the  eye.  "  Ten  years  hence," 
said  the  artist  who  accompanied  us  on  this  excursion,  "  you 
may  see  all  these  figures  engraved  and  published  in  a  b#ok. 
Here  at  Eome  we  never  do  any  thing  in  a  hurry." 

It  is  not  unlikely  that  the  admission  of  the  external  air 


266  THRONG     OF     SPECTATORS. 

will  cause  the  stucco  to  peel  from  these  vaults,  or  at  least 
will  cause  the  paintings  to  fade.  "  I  think,"  said  our  friend, 
the  artist,  "  that  the  landscapes  are  less  distinct  now  than 
they  were  ten  days  since."  In  the  mean  time,  all  Eome  is 
talking  of  this  discovery ;  it  is  the  great  topic  of  the  time. 
Numbers  of  people  are  constantly  passing  out  of  Eome  to 
visit  the  excavations  on  the  Via  Latina.  As  we  approached 
the  city  the  other  day,  by  the  magnificent  paved  road  called 
the  New  Appian  Way,  we  wondered  why  all  Eome  should  be 
rushing  into  the  Campagna ;  so  many  people  did  we  meet 
walking,  and  so  many  carriages  rattling  out  of  the  gate  of 
San  Giovanni.  When  at  length  we  visited  the  excavations, 
this  was  all  explained.  There  was  quite  a  throng  about  the 
principal  tomb,  where  a  man  in  uniform  stood  at  the  entrance, 
admitting  only  a  certain  number  of  visitors  at  a  time,  in 
order  that  they  might  not  be  in  each  others'  way.  A  few 
strangers  were  among  them,  but  the  greater  number  were 
Eomans  of  different  classes — ^portly  men  of  a  slightly  bluish 
complexion,  who  came  in  carriages  accompanied  by  well- 
dressed  ladies — and  persons  of  an  humbler  condition  who 
came  on  foot,  the  women  sometimes  bringing  with  them  their 
infants — quiet  creatures,  asleep  on  their  mothers'  shoulders. 
There  was  a  great  deal  of  animated  and  eager  discussion 
under  the  stucco  figures  and  arabesques,  for  in  Eome  art  is 
one  of  the  few  subjects  on  which  people  are  allowed  to  speak 
freely. 

As  we  left  the  spot  and  entered  the  New  Appian  Way  to 
return  to  the  city,  we  met  two  portly  ecclesiastics,  whose 


TWO     CARDINALS.  251 

plump  legs  were  encased  in  purple  stockings,  while  a  little 
way  behind  them  marched  three  servants  in  livery,  and  at  a 
still  further  distance,  followed  two  carriages  with  purple 
cushions  and  trimmings.  "  They  are  cardinals,  poor  fel- 
lows," said  our  friend ;  "  they  are  not  allowed  to  walk  in 
the  streets  of  Kome ;  the  dignity  of  their  office  forbids  it. 
So,  whenever  they  are  inclined  to  fetch  a  walk,  they  are 
obliged  to  order  their  carriages  and  drive  out  to  this  solitary 
Campagna,  where  they  can  alight  and  stretch  their  legs 
without  reprehension.  A  cardinal,  who  lives  near  the  church 
of  Trinita  del  Monte,  was  desirous  to  walk  to  the  church,  and 
asked  to  be  so  far  indulged,  but  his  application  was  denied." 
Their  Eminences,  I  suppose,  were  going  to  take  a  look  at  the 
newly-discovered  sepulchres. 

Besides  what  he  is  doing  on  the  Via  Latina,  the  Pope  is 
digging  away  vigorously  at  Ostia  on  the  sea-shore.  Here 
the  foundations  of  several  villas  of  vast  dimensions,  with  the 
lower  part  of  their  waclls,  have  been  uncovered,  and  a  large 
number  of  statues  have  been  found. 

It  has  been  an  infinite  relief  to  us  to  come  away  from 
the  noisy  and  dirty  city  of  Naples,  swarming  with  black- 
guards and  beggars,  and  pass  a  few  days  in  this  quiet  place. 
I  remember  when  Rome  was  as  dirty  as  Naples ;  it  has  now 
become  a  city  of  clean,  well-swept  streets — a  city  from  which 
New  York  might,  in  this  respect,  take  example.  There  is 
here  no  ostentatious  display  of  rags  and  disgusting  deformi- 
ties by  those  who  ask  alms,  such  as  you  encounter  at  every 
step  that  you  take  in  Naples.     There  are  beggars  here,  it  is 


258  CHANGES     FOR     THE     BETTER. 

true— quite  enough  of  them — ^but  not  so  many  as  formerly. 
Every  time  I  come  to  Kome  I  see  some  external  change  for 
the  better ;  I  perceive  that  something  has  been  done  for  the 
embellishment  of  the  city  or  for  the  public  convenience. 
Since  I  was  here  last,  ^ve  years  since,  the  New  Appian 
Way,  a  broad,  well-paved  road,  with  causeys  over  the  hol- 
lows, leading  from  Kome  to  Gensano,  has  been  com- 
pleted, crossing  the  beautiful  woody  glen  of  Lariccia  and 
the  deep  ravine  of  Gensano  with  stupendous  bridges, 
which,  if  they  make  the  road  less  pretty,  shorten  it  great- 
ly and  keep  it  at  a  convenient  level.  Within  a  few 
years  past  the  small  round  stones  with  which  the  streets  of 
Rome  were  formerly  paved,  and  which  were  the  torture  and 
the  terror  of  all  tender-footed  people,  have  been  taken  up, 
and  the  city  is  now  paved  throughout  with  small  cubic  blocks 
of  stone,  which  present  a  much  smoother  and  more  even  sur- 
face. The  streets  in  the  night  were,  not  very  long  ago,  be- 
wilder ingly  dark ;  they  are  now  well  lighted  with  gas.  New 
houses  have  been  built,  and  those  who  have  employed  their 
money  in  this  way,  I  am  told,  find  their  advantage  in  it. 
Studios  for  painters  are  erected  on  the  tops  of  old  houses,  the 
lower  rooms  of  which  are  let  to  sculptors  ;  yet  I  hear  that 
last  winter,  notwithstanding  the  number  of  new  studios 
which  have  been  built,  there  was  not  a  vacant  one  to  be  had 
at  any  price. 

The  increase  in  the  number  of  houses  implies  an  increase 
in  the  population.  There  is  certainly  an  increase  in  the 
number  of  artists  residing  here,  and  Rome  is  now  more  the 


AMERICAN     ARTISTS     AT     ROME.  259 

great  general  school  of  art  than  ever.  When  I  first  came  to 
this  place,  in  1835,  there  was  not  an  American  artist  at 
Eome,  that  I  could  hear  of;  now  the  painters  and  sculptors 
from  our  country  are  numerous  enough  to  form  a  little  com- 
munity ;  they  amount,  every  winter,  to  thirty  or  more.  The 
veterans  of  art  from  different  parts  of  the  European  continent 
sometimes  come,  in  a  quiet  way,  to  pass  a  winter  at  Eome. 
Cornelius,  whose  frescoes  are  seen  on  the  walls  and  ceilings 
of  the  finest  public  buildings  of  Munich,  was  here  last  win- 
ter, and  occupied  the  same  rooms  which  formed  his  studio 
when,  more  than  thirty  years  since,  he  was  here  to  study  the 
grand  frescoes  of  Michael  Angelo,  Eaphael,  and  Guido.  I 
perceive  that  in  the  New  York  journals  very  full  accounts  have 
been  given  of  what  the  American  artists  here  are  doing,  so 
that  with  regard  to  them  I  have  nothing  to  tell  which  would 
be  news.  It  is  remarkable  that  they  find  Eome  a  better 
place  for  obtaining  orders  from  their  own  countrymen  than 
any  of  the  American  cities.  Men  who  would  never  have 
thought  of  buying  a  picture  or  a  statue  at  home,  are  infected 
by  the  contagion  of  the  place  the  moment  they  arrive.  No 
talk  of  the  money  market  here ;  no  discussion  of  any  public 
measure ;  no  conversation  respecting  new  enterprises,  and 
the  ebb  and  flow  of  trade ;  no  price  current,  except  of  mar- 
ble and  canvas ;  all  the  talk  is  of  art  and  artists.  The  rich 
man  who,  at  home,  is  contented  with  mirrors  and  rosewood, 
is  here  initiated  into  a  new  set  of  ideas,  gets  a  taste,  and 
orders  a  bust,  a  little  statue  of  Eve,  a  Euth,  or  a  Eebecca, 


260     DEATH   OF   BARTHOLOMEW   THE   SCULPTOR. 

and  half  a  dozen  pictures,  for  his  luxurious  rooms  in  the 
United  States. 

You  have  heard  of  the  death  of  poor  Bartholomew,  the 
sculptor.  He  came  to  the  hotel  at  Naples,  where  I  was,  tlie 
evening  before  I  went  with  my  family  to  Castellamare ;  I 
was  absent  a  week,  and  when  I  came  back  he  was  dead  and 
in  his  grave.  He  had  fought  a  hard  battle  with  poverty, 
and  had  just  won  it ;  orders  were  beginning  to  come  in  upon 
him  from  all  quarters,  and  his  great  grief,  when  lie  breathed 
his  last,  was,  that  he  could  not  place  his  mother  in  that  state 
of  comfort  which  he  would  easily  have  secured  to  her  if  a 
brief  respite  from  death  had  been  allowed  him.  I  have  been 
to  his  studio  since  my  arrival  in  Eome,  and  there  I  saw  the 
last  work  of  his  hand — a  fine  statue,  justifying  the  reputa- 
tion he  has  lately  acquired — ^Eve,  after  the  Fall,  in  an  atti- 
tude of  dejection,  and  wearing  an  expression  of  profound 
sorrow.  I  could  scarcely  help  fancying  that  the  marble  figure 
mourned  the  death  of  the  artist  to  whom  it  owed  its  being. 

The  French  hold  Eome  yet — for  the  Pope.  Every  morn- 
ing the  streets  resound  with  the  tramp  of  Gallic  cavalry. 
Troops  of  heavy  Norman  horses  drink  from  troughs  filled 
by  the  waters  of  the  Claudian  aqueduct,  and  in  the  massive 
Baths  of  Diocletian  are  locked  up  the  thunders  which  at  a 
moment's  notice  may  batter  down  the  city.  The  stranger 
who  strolls  near  them  with  a  segar  is  warned  away  by  the 
French  guards.  There  is  a  French  police  here,  to  which  the 
Italian  police  is  subsidiary,  and  it  is  said  to  be  much  the 
better  of  the  two. 


AIX     LES     BAINS.  201 


LETTEE   XXIV. 

THE     CITIES     OF     NORTHERN     ITALY. 

Aix  LES  Bains,  Savoy,  July  1,  1858. 

While  we  are  stopping  for  a  day  at  the  ancient  watering- 
place  of  Aix  les  Bains,  I  employ  an  liour  or  two  in  writing 
of  some  things  I  have  observed  in  the  journey  through  Italy, 
northward. 

This  place  has  the  reputation  of  a  remarkably  healthy 
air,  and  it  is  certainly  the  abode  of  a  healthy-looking,  fresh- 
colored  population.  They  boast  that  its  harsh,  saline  springs, 
strongly  impregnated  with  sulphur,  attract  to  it  in  summer  a 
crowd  of  strangers,  who,  at  that  season,  swell  its  population 
of  four  thousand  to  twice  the  number.  Yet  it  is  a  very  un- 
attractive watering-place,  compared  with  the  German  ones 
near  the  Ehine,  and  the  French  ones  among  the  Pyrenees. 
Its  hotels  are  well  kept,  but  no  pains  have  been  taken  in 
opening  and  embellishing  grounds  and  laying  out  walks  for 
those  who  frequent  Aix  for  the  benefit  of  its  waters  and  its 
air.  Its  only  walks  are  along  dusty  carriage-roads,  and 
mostly  in  the  glare  of  the  sun ;  and  in  this  respect  it  is  dis- 
advantageously  contrasted  with  the  places  I  have  mentioned. 
A  spacious  and  massive  building  for  the  baths  is  now,  how- 
ever, going  up,  the  cost  of  which  is  partly  defrayed  out  of 


262  FLORENCE. 

the  Sardinian  treasury,  and  it  is  very  likely  that  commodi- 
ous paths  will  be  planned  along  the  shady  border  of  the  clear 
stream  that  winds  through  the  valley,  and  out  to  where  the 
blue  waters  of  Lake  Bourget,  near  at  -hand,  sleep  at  the  foot 
of  overhanging  precipices. 

In  the  city  of  Florence,  which  we  saw  in  the  early  part 
of  June,  I  found  that  some  changes  had  taken  place.  The 
street  called  Lung'  Arno,  so  pleasant  in  winter,  formerly  ended 
in  the  west  at  the  bridge  which  bears  the  name  of  Carraia, 
and  beyond,  the  foundations  of  the  houses  stood  in  the  waters 
of  the  river.  These  buildings  have  now  been  pulled  down, 
and  the  whole  bank  of  the  Arno,  as  far  as  that  spacious  pub- 
lic promenade,  the  Cascine,  has  been  opened  to  the  winter 
sunshine,  and  is  overlooked  on  the  north  side  by  a  stately 
row  of  new  houses.  Troops  of  stonecutters  and  masons  are 
busy  in  repairing  and  restoring  the  public  buildings;  the 
fine  old  church  of  Santa  Croce,  which  has  stood  for  centuries, 
with  a  ghastly  and  ragged  mass  of  dark  brickwork  forming 
its  front  wall  above  the  portal,  is  to  be  finished  according 
to  the  magnificent  original  design,  and  other  churches  in 
the  same  state,  I  was  told,  are  to  be  finished  in  their  turn. 

At  Bologna  we  found  workmen  employed  by  the  papal 
government  in  finishing  the  ancient  church  of  San  Petronio, 
in  which  Charles  V.  received  the  crown  of  the  Koman  em- 
pire. Those  were  the  prosperous  days  of  Bologna,  now  in 
decay,  and  held  in  a  sullen  quiet  by  rulers  whom  it  hates. 
The  only  other  symptom  of  enterprise  I  observed,  was  the 
late  enlargement  and  adornment  of  their  public  burial-place. 


THE     BURIAL-PLACE     AT     BOLOGNA.  263 

I  thought  of  the  silk-worm  spinning  its  own  beautiful  shroud 
just  before  it  goes  into  its  winter  sleep.  The  Campo  Santo 
of  Bologna  provides  the  most  sumptuous  repository  for  the 
bodies  of  the  dead  which  I  ever  saw.  We  drove  out  to  it  on 
a  hot  June  day  over  a  dusty  road,  on  each  side  of  which  the 
blue-flowered  clematis  twined  over  a  row  of  young  locust 
trees — for  this  tree  of  our  North  American  forests,  intro- 
duced into  Europe  under  the  name  of  acacia,  has  within  the 
last  twenty  years  taken  possession  of  the  continent  from  the 
latitude  of  Paris,  and  even  further  north,  to  the  extremity  of 
the  Italian  peninsula.  As  we  entered  the  cemetery,  we 
found  ourselves  among  the  beautiful  cloisters  of  an  old  Car- 
thusian convent,  built  some  four  hundred  years  since,  the 
church  of  which  is  now  the  chapel  of  the  burial-place.  Here, 
under  the  long  galleries,  are  several  tombs  of  the  middle 
ages,  dark  with  time,  which  had  stood  for  centuries  in  the 
open  air,  and  had  been  removed  hither  for  shelter ;  and 
hither  also  had  been  brought  from  the  churches  many  monu- 
ments of  distinguished  men — mural  tablets,  sculptures  in  re- 
lief, busts  and  statues,  among  which  I  observed  several  from 
the  chisels  of  Canova  and  Tenerani.  In  the  open  space 
within  the  cloisters,  where  once  the  Carthusians  had  their 
nameless  graves,  are  buried  those  whose  fortunes  do  not  allow 
a  more  costly  sepulture.  As  the  cemetery  has  grown  popu- 
lous, new  ranges  of  cloisters  have  been  built  around  other 
enclosures,  the  patrician  dead  sleeping  under  the  arches  in 
the  thick  walls,  and  the  poor  finding  a  humbler  resting-place 
in  the  enclosed  squares.     At  one  time  a  fashion  of  painting 


264      VAULTED  GALLERIES.    ARCADES. 

fresco  monuments  on  the  walls  prevailed,  but  this  has  been 
interdicted ;  the  painter  has  been  thrust  out,  and  no  memo- 
rial is  allowed  to  be  put  up  except  it  be  of  metal  or  stone. 
Besides  these  far-stretching  galleries,  open  on  one  side, 
several  sepulchral  halls  have  been  built  opening  into  them — 
long  vaulted  passages  of  massive  masonry,  which  made  me 
think  of  the  tomb  of  Apis,  in  Egypt,  but  not  like  that,  lying 
in  darkness,  for  here  the  light  of  day  shines  in  through  a 
lofty  iron  grate  at  each  extremity.  I  looked  along  these 
apartments  of  the  dead,  and  saw  the  white  statues  on  either 
hand  keeping  watch  in  the  silence,  while  at  the  end  where 
the  light  came  in,  the  branches  of  trees  and  shrubs,  touched 
by  the  sunshine,  were  seen  swaying  in  the  wind.  In  one  or 
two  of  them  stood  monumental  figures  at  the  intersection  of 
the  passages,  like  mute  sentinels  of  the  place.  A  gigantic 
Bolognese,  one  of  the  keepers,  who  was  dignified  by  the  title 
of  dimostratore,  opened  and  shut  the  iron-grated  doors  with  a 
clash,  which  sounded  strangely  in  that  stillness. 

"  You  will  go  back,  of  course,  by  the  arcades,"  said  our 
coachman ;  and  accordingly  we  were  taken  by  the  side  of  a 
new  arcade  for  foot  passengers,  of  nearly  a  mile  in  length, 
joining  the  cemetery  to  the  row  of  ancient  arcades  which, 
beginning  at  the  city  gate,  extend  for  the  distance  of  three 
miles  to  the  church  of  Madonna  di  San  Luca,  on  the  hill, 
where  they  show  you  an  ancient  picture  of  the  Virgin  from 
the  pencil  of  St.  Luke.  "  This  new  row  of  arcades,"  said 
our  guide,"  has  been  built  by  free  contributions — wholly  by 
free  contributions.     There,  on  the  wall,  between  the  columns, 


FERRARA.        VENICE.  265 

you  see  the  names  of  the  givers — wealthy  families  of  Bologna, 
charitable  women,  rich  men,  who  remembered  the  cemetery 
in  their  wills — the  company  of  cordwainers  have  built  one  of 
the  arches,  the  workers  in  brass  another,  the  company  of 
grocers  have  given  several,  and  so  have  the  tailors.  A 
funeral  procession  can  now  walk  dry-shod  in  rainy  weather, 
from  the  city  to  the  burial-place." 

So  sleep  the  dead  at  Bologna.  Their  city  is  built  with 
arcades  on  the  streets ;  they  walk  all  their  lives  under  ar- 
cades ;  they  are  carried  under  arcades  to  their  graves,  and 
are  laid  under  arcades  in  death. 

At  Ferrara,  I  found  the  living  engaged  in  beating  down 
the  old  houses  of  the  city  to  make  room  for  gardens,  and 
several  people  were  busy  in  the  street  before  the  house  of 
Ariosto  and  in  other  places,  picking  out  the  grass  that  grew 
between  the  paving  stones.  In  Venice  I  was  told  of  one 
new  house  going  up,  but  it  was  on  an  old  foundation.  But 
though  the  buildings  of  Venice  remain  the  same,  in  other 
respects  its  aspect  has  strangely  altered  within  a  few  years 
past.  A  new  northern  invasion  has  descended  upon  these 
islets  of  the  lagoons  from  the  banks  of  the  Danube,  bringing 
with  it  Vienna  beer,  sausages,  and  sourcrout.  You  meet,  at 
every  other  step,  people  with  flaxen  hair  and  Avhite  eye- 
brows ;  listen,  and  you  perceive  that  they  are  talking  Ger- 
man ;  they  are  an  importation  from  Austria.  German  beer- 
gardens  are  opened ;  German  restaurants  abound  where  a 
few  years  since  it  was  not  easy  to  find  an  eating-house ;  men 
in  military  uniform,  speaking  the  harsh  dialect  of  Southern 
J2 


266  GERMAKS     IN     VENICE. 

Germany,  are  strolling  about  everywhere.  At  the  principal 
hotels  you  are  served  by  German  waiters  and  chambermaids ; 
at  the  Hotel  Danielli,  which  I  would  advise  all  travellers  to 
avoid,  there  is  an  Austrian  director.  All  travellers  who 
come  to  Venice  visit  the  Arsenal,  which  has  been  regarded 
as  one  of  the  great  curiosities  of  the  place ;  but  since  the 
revolution  of  1848,  it  has  been  placed  under  regulations 
which  deprive  it  of  much  of  its  interest.  You  are  no  longer 
allowed  to  see  the  ancient  arches  under  which  the  fleets  of 
Venice,  in  the  days  of  her  power,  were  built,  the  old  Navy 
Yard  of  the  Kepublic.  The  hall  containing  ancient  weapons 
and  armor  you  are  permitted  to  enter,  but  your  Venetian 
guide  is  obliged  to  wait  without,  and  you  find  the  collection 
newly  arranged.  The  massive  helmet  of  Attila,  which  you 
were  formerly  allowed  to  take  in  your  hands,  and  put  on 
your  head  if  you  pleased,  is  hung  up  against  the  wall ;  and 
every  object  particularly  worthy  of  note  is  now  provided  with 
its  long  German  inscidption,  as  if  to  intimate  that  they  are 
Italian  no  longer,  but  are  to  be  numbered  among  the  tokens 
of  Austrian  dominion,  like  the  cannon  in  the  fortresses,  and 
the  muskets  borne  by  the  soldiery. 

Milan  is  not  Germanized  to  the  same  degree  as  Venice, 
but  I  doubt  whether  the  people  are  better  satisfied  with  the 
rule  under  which  they  live.  "  The  revolution,"  said  one  of 
them  to  me,  "  took  place  ten  years  ago,  and  yet  they  treat 
us  as  if  it  were  an  event  of  yesterday.  At  every  hour  of  the 
day  we  are  made  to  feel  that  we  are  a  conquered  race.  The 
military  chief  under  the  Austrian  government.  General  Giu- 


MILAN.  ^^ 

lay,  the  successor  of  Kadetzky,  is  the  harsher  master  of  the 
two." 

It  was  saddening  to  remain  among  a  people  submitting 
gloomily  to  their  condition  of  slavery,  and  it  was  with  a 
sense  of  relief  that  I  entered  the  Sardinian  dominions,  and 
passing  first  through  a  tract  of  yellow-green  rice-fields,  and 
then  through  a  region  of  fertile  meadows  between  the  grim, 
rocky  steeps  of  the  Alps  on  one  side,  and  a  range  of  culti- 
vated hills  on  the  other,  reached  the  city  of  Turin.  I  seemed 
to  breathe  more  freely  in  a  freer  country.  In  Turin  you  are 
surrounded  with  the  tokens  of  cheerful  activity,  and  see 
marks  of  prosperity  for  which  you  look  vainly  in  any  of  the 
Italian  cities  under  the  governments  to  the  east  and  south  of 
it.  A  representative  government,  freedom  of  the  press,  and 
freedom  of  trade,  have  brought  back  to  this  part  of  Italy  the 
impulses  to  enterprise,  the  energy  and  steadiness  of  action, 
which  centuries  ago  made  the  Italian  republics  so  great  and 
powerful. 

While  at  Turin  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  another 
remarkable  example  of  the  success  with  which  human  inge- 
nuity exerts  itself  when  not  encumbered  with  either  the  re- 
straints or  the  patronage  of  the  government.  It  happened 
that  an  exhibition  of  the  products  of  Sardinian  industry  was 
open  in  the  palace  called  the  "Valentino,"  built  two  hun- 
dred years  ago,  by  Catherine  of  France,  in  the  pleasant  en- 
virons of  the  city.  These  exhibitions  are  held  once  in  five 
years,  and  they  bring  together  samples  of  whatever  is  pro- 


S09  TURIN.        MANUFACTURES. 

duced  in  the  workshops,  the  looms,  the  furnaces,  and  the 
alembics  of  all  the  provinces  and  isles  of  Sardinia. 

I  was  taken  to  see  the  exhibition  by  a  very  enlightened 
and  agreeable  member  of  the  Sardinian  Parliament,  Signor 
Lorenzo  Valerio,  to  whom  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  have  a 
letter  of  introduction.  As  we  passed  through  the  crowded 
streets,  I  could  not  help  remarking  that  the  people  seemed 
well  formed  for  active  pursuits — thin,  spare  men,  but  with 
well-knit  frames  and  a  healthy  look.  The  first  thing  I  ob- 
served, on  entering  the  lower  galleries  of  the  Valentino,  was 
a  long  case  gf  shelves,  filled  with  models  of  the  different  va- 
rieties of  cultivated  fruits,  executed  with  such  skill  as  fairly 
to  deceive  the  eye.  I  took  them  for  real  fruit,  till  I  was  told 
better.  Here  were  the  finest  varieties  of  the  pear,  the  Bon 
Chretien,  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme,  the  Chaumontel,  and  a 
hundred  others  ;  here  glistened  the  green  gage,  the  magnum 
bonum,  and  tribe  after  tribe  of  the  plum  family ;  here  were 
apples  and  quinces  of  all  sorts,  so  well  imitated  that  you 
almost  seemed  to  inhale  their  fragrance  ;  here  were  the  dif- 
ferent varieties  of  the  ^g,  the  pomegranate,  and  the  grape, 
with  every  tint  and  stain  and  peculiarity  of  shape,  so  per- 
fectly copied,  that  any  variety  of  fruit  might  at  once  be  re- 
ferred to  its  true  appellation  by  comparing  it  with  the  model 
in  the  case.  In  this  lower  part  of  the  palace,  were  rows  of 
ploughs,  corn-shellers,  fanning-machines,  and  other  agricul- 
tural implements,  making  it  look  like  one  of  the  departments 
of  an  agricultural  fair  in  the  United  States.  A  machine  for 
feeding   silk-worms   and   keeping   them  clean,  was  among 


SARDINIAN     SILKS.  260 

them.  Here  also  were  steam-engines,  which  the  people  of 
Sardinia  have  now  learned  to  make  for  themselves,  and  iron 
stoves,  and  church-bells  cast  in  the  foundries  of  Savoy.  I 
do  not  recollect  whether  it  was  in  these  lower  galleries  that 
my  Italian  friend  showed  me  an  ingenious  improvement  of 
the  electric  telegraph,  by  which  a  message  is  delivered  in 
the  very  handwriting  of  the  person  sending  it — a  perfect  fac 
simile  being  produced.  I  could  perceive,  at  first,  no  practical 
use  of  this  invention,  except  to  put  a  new  weapon  into  the 
hands  of  those  who  persecute  distinguished  persons  for  their 
autographs,  but  it  might  serve  in  certain  cases  to  authenti- 
cate a  message. 

The  display  of  silks  in  the  upper  galleries  of  the  Valen- 
tino was  absolutely  dazzling.  The  silk-worm  of  Piedmont 
spins  a  beautiful  fibre,  regular,  firm  and  glossy,  and  samples 
of  raw  silk  in  the  exhibition  were  strikingly  fine ;  some  of 
the  most  so  were  from  the  mulberry  orchards  of  Ferigliano. 
Of  this  material,  quantities  amounting  in  value  to  four  mil- 
lions of  francs  are  annually  sent  to  foreign  countries.  The 
silk  fabrics  were  no  less  remarkable  for  excellence.  From  the 
vaulted  roof^  of-  the  chambers,  rough  with  figures  in  relief, 
and  blazing  with  gold,  the  walls  were  tapestried  with  silk 
tissues  of  the  greatest  beauty,  rivalHng  the  products  of  the 
French  looms.  "  This  branch  of  industry,"  said  Signor  Va- 
lerio,  "  has  grown  up  amidst  complete  liberty  of  trade,  and 
within  a  few  years  past  has  made  rapid  progress."  I  looked 
round  upon  the  long  stripes  of  brocade  descending  from  the 
ceiling  to  the  floor ;  on  the  silk  velvets,  blue,  red,  and  green, 


210  WATCHES. 

wrought  by  the  work-people  of  Genoa  ;  on  the  brilliant  scarfs 
woven  at  Chambery ;  on  the  beautiful  moires  and  foulards, 
the  damasks  and  ribbons,  and  the  glittering  cloths  of  gold 
and  silver  from  the  looms  of  Turin — and  felt  a  certain  pleas- 
ure in  reflecting  that  all  this  was  the  fruit  of  the  simplest 
and  earliest  method  of  dealing  with  the  industry  of  a  nation 
— the  policy  of  leaving  it  to  itself. 

The  woollens  of  Sardinia  are  superior  to  those  of  Switz- 
erland, though  by  no  means  of  the  first  class.  I  saw  samples 
of  delicate  flannels  woven  on  the  streams  of  the  Valle  Mosso, 
in  the  province  of  Biella.  "  The  cotton  goods  of  our  coun- 
try," said  my  Turinese  companion,  showing  me  several  sam- 
ples, "  are  equal  in  quality  to  those  of  France,  and  consider- 
ably cheaper."  In  another  part  of  the  exhibition  I  saw 
several  cases  filled  with  watches  and  time-pieces.  "  These 
before  you,"  said  he,  "are  from  Cluses  in  Savoy;  these 
others  are  from  Bonneville,  and  these,  again,  are  made  at 
Sallenches.  The  manufacture  of  watches  has  at  length 
crossed  our  frontier  from  Geneva,  and,  of  late  years,  we 
make  chronometers  which  rival  those  of  Switzerland."  Some 
light  and  graceful  articles  of  porcelain  attracted  my  atten- 
tion. The  porcelain  of  Sardinia  is  superior  to  that  of  Switz- 
erland ;  but  the  glass  from  the  furnaces  of  Savoy  is  hardly 
as  good — it  bears  a  tinge  of  smoke. 

I  shall  be  tedious — ^perhaps  I  am  so  already — if  I  go  on 
to  speak  of  the  various  other  objects  which  attracted  my  at- 
tention— the  musical  instruments  of  wood  and  metal,  which 
made  one  department  of  the  exhibition  look  like  a  huge  or- 


DESIGNS     IN    WOOD     INLAID.  271 

chestra  abandoned  by  the  musicians;  the  massive  slate  of 
the  country  chiselled  into  tables  and  other  articles  of  furni- 
ture ;  the  tiles  of  a  delicate  grain,  like  marble,  yet  resisting 
heat  like  our  fire-bricks  ;  the  products  of  the  laboratory,  piles 
of  blue  vitriol,  pyramids  of  alum,  stacks  of  sal-ammoniac,  and 
the  like ;  the  delicate  filigree  work  in  silver ;  the  gloves  of 
Turin,  just  inferior  to  those  of  Paris,  and  as  cheap  again ; 
and  a  hundred  other  things,  all  testifying  to  the  vast  variety 
of  ways  in  which  the  industry  of  the  country,  under  a  sys- 
tem of  freedom,  voluntarily  unfolds  and  extends  itself. 

I  was  struck  with  the  beauty  of  some  lithographic  en- 
gravings in  the  exhibition.  "They  are  line  engravings, 
surely,"  said  I  to  the  gentleman  who  was  with  me.  "  By  no 
means,"  was  his  answer,  "they  are  lithographs;  they  are 
placed  in  that  department,  and  cannot  be  any  thing  else."  I 
examined  them  again,  and  such  was  the  fineness  and  sharp- 
ness of  the  lines  that  I  could  hardly  avoid  shaking  my  head 
in  sign  of  doubt.  Some  specimens  of  cabinet  work,  with 
inlaid  pictorial  designs,  were  scarcely  less  remarkable.  They 
were  executed  with  a  kind  of  wood  full  of  dark  veins  and 
spots,  and  with  a  skill  and  effect  which  were  really  astonish- 
ing. In  several  instances  the  designs  were  borrowed  from 
the  works  of  eminent  masters,  and  in  one  instance  the  arti- 
san had  been  daring  enough  to  put  the  Transfiguration  of 
Kaphael  on  the  doors  of  a  writing-desk. 

One  of  the  days  which  I  passed  in  Turin  was  Sunday, 
and  I  looked  in  upon  the  Waldenses,  who,  under  the  new 
system  of  religious  freedom  in  Sardinia,  are  allowed  to  wor- 


272        CHURCH  OF  THE  WALDEN8ES. 

ship  openly  in  the  cities.  Their  church  in  Turin  is  a  hand- 
some building,  in  the  Komanesque  style,  with  an  ample 
semicircular  recess  for  the  communion  at  one  end,  and  a  pul- 
pit built  against  one  of  the  graceful  pillars  on  the  left  side  of 
the  nave,  as  you  enter.  In  the  morning  an  elderly  minister 
gave  a  sensible  discourse  in  French,  in  which  he  did  not 
spare  either  Nicodemus,  who  came  to  Jesus  by  night,  nor  his 
timorous  imitators  of  the  present  day.  He  insisted  on  a 
frank,  fearless,  and  sincere  expression  of  opinion  on  religious 
subjects,  with  the  admonition  that  it  be  uttered  in  all  kind- 
ness and  gentleness.  The  afternoon  service  was  for  the 
Italian  part  of  the  congregation,  and  was  conducted  by  a 
young  man,  who  gave  a  common-place  sermon,  but  who  had 
the  merit  of  a  very  distinct  elocution,  so  that  I  lost  not  a 
word.  The  prayers  were  mostly  read  by  the  minister  from 
a  book,  but  otherwise  there  was  nothing  in  the  services  to 
distinguish  them  from  those  of  a  Presbyterian  church  in  New 
York,  if  I  except  the  language — and  really  it  seemed  strange 
to  hear  religious  services  of  this  sort  in  the  tongue  of  Catholic 
Italy.  Neither  in  the  morning  nor  the  afternoon  was  the 
congregation  large,  but  its  manner  was  attentive  and  devout. 
It  was  composed  of  persons  manifestly  of  different  conditions 
in  life,  the  opulent  and  the  laboring ;  the  women  sitting 
apart  from  the  men  ;  and  scattered  among  the  men  were 
several  persons  in  the  uniform  of  the  Sardinian  army,  both 
officers  and  soldiers. 


DEATH  OF  HELEN  RUTHVEN  WATERSTON.  273 


LETTER  XXV. 

A     DEATH     AT     NAPLES CLIMATE     OF     THAT     CITY. 

Evesham,  England,  August  9,  1858. 
I  HAD  not  thought  of  writing  again  to  the  Evening  Post 
before  leaving  Europe,  but  I  am  prompted  to  it  by  a  letter 
contaihing  the  following  sad  announcement,  which  I  beg  may 
also  be  placed  among  the  deaths  in  the  Evening  Post  : 

"  At  N'aples,  Sunday,  July  25,  departed  this  life,  after  an  ill- 
ness of  three  months,  Helen  Ruthven  Waterston,  aged  17  years, 
the  beloved  and  only  daughter  of  Robert  and  Anna  Waterston,  of 
Boston,  U.  S.  A." 

Some  of  the  pleasantest  as  well  as  some  of  the  saddest 
recollections  of  my  present  visit  to  Europe,  relate  to  this 
charming  young  person  and  her  premature  death.  I  must 
say  a  word  of  her,  and  of  the  dangers  which,  in  some  cases 
at  least,  attend  a  residence  in  Naples. 

It  was  at  Heidelberg,  a  little  more  than  a  year  since,  that 
I  met  the  Reverend  R.  C.  Waterston,  of  Boston,  with  his 
wife  and  their  daughter,  an  only  child.  I  confess  that  I 
felt  a  certain  pride  in  so  magnificent  a  specimen  of  my 
countrywomen  as  this  young  lady  presented — uncommonly 
12* 


274  CLIMATE     OF     NAPLES. 

beautiful  in  person,  with  a  dignity  of  presence  and  manner 
much  beyond  her  years,  and  a  sweetness  no  less  remarkable 
than  the  dignity.  Wherever  she  went,  it  was  easy  to  see 
that  she  was  followed  by  looks  of  admiration.  A  further 
acquaintance  with  her  showed  that  her  intellectual  and  moral 
qualities  were  equal  to  her  personal  graces.  Her  mind  was 
surprisingly  mature  for  her  time  of  life.  She  was  kind,  true, 
sympathetic,  religious,  and  overflowing  with  filial  affection — 
the  most  dutiful  as  well  as  most  beloved  of  daughters.  After 
we  left  Heidelberg,  we  saw  no  more  of  her,  until  her  parents, 
in  April  last,  after  a  winter's  residence  in  Eome,  brought  her, 
apparently  in  full  health,  to  Naples,  where  we  then  were,  and 
took  lodgings  at  the  Vittoria  Hotel,  in  the  street  of  that 
name,  looking  out  on  the  beautiful  bay. 

The  streets  of  Chiatamone,  Yittoria  and  the  Chiaja  con- 
tain the  best  hotels  in  Naples,  and  their  situation  is  highly 
attractive  to  the  stranger.  The  public  garden  called  the 
Villa  Keale,  extends  in  front  of  them,  the  only  promenade 
for  pedestrians  in  Naples ;  and  a  pleasant  one  it  is  ;  the  grand 
peninsula  of  Posilipo,  studded  with  stately  country  seats,  and 
overhanging  the  sea  with  its  tall  gray  precipices,  bounds  the 
sight  to  the  west ;  to  the  east  you  have  in  view  Castellamare 
and  Sorrento  with  their  background  of  airy  mountain  sum- 
mits ;  in  front  rises  the  r<5cky  isle  of  Capri,  and  close  at 
hand  the  waters  of  the  Mediterranean  dash  and  murmur  all 
day  and  all  night  on  the  shingly  beach  in  front  of  the  houses. 
The  glorious  prospect,  the  broad  open  streets,  full  of  Nea- 
politan bustle,  and  the  warm  winter  sunshine,  allure  travel- 


NERVOUS     COMPLAINTS.  216 

lers  to  fix  themselves  in  this  part  of  Naples  in  preference  to 
any  other.  Yet  this  beautiful  quarter  has  a  bad  reputation 
for  health  among  the  Neapolitans.  A  friend  of  mine,  who 
had  resided  for  some  years  at  Naples,  said  to  me ;  "I  know 
a  lady  who  has  a  palace  on  the  Chiatamone,  and  who  declares 
that  as  soon  as  she  makes  trial  of  living  in  it,  she  suffers 
with  disordered  nerves.  So  she  is  obliged  to  let  it,  and  to 
live  a  little  way  back  from  the  shore ;  a  short  distance  will 
answer.  The  same  thing  happens  to  many  others.  They 
abandon  their  desirable  mansions  to  those  who  are  willing 
to  live  in  them."  From  other  quarters  I  heard,  not  long 
after  my  arrival,  that  people  living  in  this  spot  were  subject . 
to  low  nervous  fevers.  What  may  be  the  cause  I  do  not  pre- 
tend to  say.  The  sewers  of  the  city  have  their  mouths  here 
in  the  edge  of  the  bay,  and  under  the  very  windows  of  the 
houses  there  runs  one  of  these  foul  conduits,  with  frequent 
small  openings,  which  send  up  offensive  exhalations.  Possi- 
bly this  is  the  main  occasion  of  the  mischief. 

It  was  in  an  hotel  in  this  part  of  Naples  that  Mr.  Waters- 
ton  took  rooms  for  his  family.  They  had  scarcely  occupied 
them  three  days,  when  Miss  Waterston  was  seized  with  the 
malady  which  ended  her  life.  It  was  attended  from  the 
first  with  great  weakness — so  great^that  before  it  became 
clear  to  her  parents  that  it  was  desirable  to  remove  her,  a 
removal  was  impossible.  Once  or  tAvice  the  disorder  put  on 
a  favorable  appearance,  and  they  were  flattered  with  the 
hope  of  her  recovery  ;  but  at  length  it  became  manifest  that 
it  was  a  disease  of  the  heart,  and  must  prove  fatal.    Whether 


276  ENERVATING     EFFECT     OF     THE     AIR. 

she  might  have  escaped  the  attack  in  a  more  healthful  at- 
mosphere, I  will  not  presume  to  conjecture,  nor  whether  in 
a  different  climate  the  medical  remedies  applied  would  have 
had  a  better  chance  of  success  ;  but  it  is  at  least  highly  prob- 
able that  she  would  have  escaped  the  deplorable  weakness, 
which  almost  at  once  made  her  removal  to  a  more  friendly- 
atmosphere,  impossible. 

When  I  mentioned  to  my  banker  at  Florence  that  we 
had  left  Miss  Waters  ton  very  ill  at  Naples,  he  exclaimed 
with  great  energy,  "  Her  father  must  get  her  away  as  soon 
as  he  can ;  it  is  certain  death  for  her  to  stay ;  the  climate  of 
Naples  is  the  most  relaxing  in  the  world."  But  whether  a 
removal  would  have  been  beneficial  or  not,  it  had  long  been 
an  impossibility.  She  grew  weaker  and  weaker,  bearing 
her  sufferings  with  a  patience  and  resignation  so  sweet  and 
saint-like,  that  even  the  physicians,  familiar  as  they  were 
with  the  experiences  of  the  sick-room  and  the  death-bed, 
were  melted  to  tears.  At  length,  a  little  before  her  end, 
her  mind  began  to  wander,  but  in  such  a  manner  that  it 
seemed  as  if  she  was  admitted  to  a  glimpse  of  the  brighter 
world  to  which  she  was  going,  and  she  passed  away  in  what 
might  almost  be  taken  for  a  beatific  vision — a  happy  life 
closed  by  a  happy  death — ^leaving  her  parents  broken-heart- 
ed, but  for  the  strong  religious  trust  which  supported  them. 

I  heard  many  persons,  while  I  was  in  Italy,  speak  of  the 
unfavorable  influences  of  a  residence  in  Naples  on  persons 
subject  to  nervous  complaints,  and  many  instances  of  it  were 
related  to  me.     Perhaps  the  cases  were  confined  to  this  quar- 


A     CAUTION.  277 

ter  so  much  dreaded  by  the  Neapolitans  themselves.  So  con- 
vinced was  I  of  the  prejudicial  effect  of  its  atmosphere  in 
such  cases,  that  I  caused  the  one  of  our  party  whose  illness 
— a  nervous  fever — detained  us  so  long  at  Naples,  to  be 
removed  from  the  street  called  Vittoria  to  the  Pension  d* 
Europe^  away  from  the  shore,  on  higher  ground,  and  among 
the  gardens ;  and  the  removal,  I  thought,  was  attended  with 
immediate  and  manifest  advantage.  The  profound  sorrow 
in  which  I  pen  these  lines  would  be  without  its  proper  fruit, 
did  I  neglect  to  caution  those  who  are  liable  to  nervous  com- 
plaints, and  who  fear  to  be  reduced  by  them  to  a  state  of 
extreme  bodily  weakness,  against  the  climate  of  Naples,  and 
particularly  against  a  residence  in  that  quarter  which  I  have 
described. 


THE     END. 


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